The Cold One
by Mrs. Hiddleston
Summary: Facing Death was easy...facing the bringer of death was more insidious than they would have ever imagined
1. Viaggio attraverso il Tempo

**It's _incredibly_ stupid of me to be starting _another _Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger fanfic when I still have one up and running, but I'm rather frustrated with the other one, so here we are :) No flames, please, because they make me _very very_ sad.**

**I do not own any familiar aspects of the story**

**And without any further adue (I don't think I spelled that word right), here we go...**

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Chapter One: _Vaggio attraverso il tempo_

There he was, just standing there, when what he wanted to do was forbidden. She could see the guilt in his eyes, especially after Dumbledore's funeral, and after he had seen the scars the marred Bill's usually-handsome face. She could see his longing as he stared out into the distance, past the fences of the Burrow, into the open wide spanse of the world, away from the people that could get hurt because of him.

Hermione glanced at Harry one more time, pityingly, before she followed Ginny inside to help Mrs. Weasley with the table.

As Mrs. Weasley served the food, Hermione started to dig in when she heard a faint _snap_. She glanced quickly outside, and saw the outside in the yard a faint glow had emmerged from the darkness, and as it grew brighter, it gained the attention of the other inhabitants of the room.

"Mrs...Weasley...?" asked Hermione nervously.

She was looking out of the window worriedly, hands agitatedly tugging at her apron. Over the last few weeks, since their return from their sixth year, Hermione had noticed that Mrs. Weasley was extremely anxious and guarded. She wouldn't let them stay outside alone for more than ten minutes and jumped at the slightest sounds. It was obvious that the war had taken it's tole on her.

Quite suddenly, the light vanished and was replaced by a tall, thin figure. Her hair was swept up into a tight bun and sharp eyes scanned the yard before moving to stride confidently across the yard to the door. Hermione immediately recognized her as Professor McGonagall.

Arthur pushed past his family crowded around the door, and as the knock sounded, he called through the door, "Yes?"

"Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft as Wizardly."

"The last thing that Albus Dumbledore said to you?"

Hermione could have sworn she heard the professor sniffle slightly as she answered. "Protect your students. They are our future."

Mr. Weasley opened the door and ushered her in. She wasted no time stating her business.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger, in the sitting room, if you please."

They followed her obediently into the next room and sank onto the couch across from her as she sat down in an overstuffed armchair in front of the fire, which crackled noisily in the grate. Hermione found she couldn't draw her eyes away from it.

"Mr. Potter, I have finally been informed of the mission that Dumbledore gave the three of you in order to win the war." Hermione's eyes widened and snapped to McGonagall, who was peering at the three of them with slightly narrowed eyes. "But..."

"But..?" Ron asked impatiently, and McGonagall cocked an eyebrow disapprovingly and Hermione nudged him in the ribs, staring intently at McGonagall.

"There has been a slight...modification in our plans...one that the three of you would have to be completely willing to comply with."

"I've got a feeling that this doesn't have to do with the horcruxes..." Hermione trailed off, unsurely looking at McGonagall, who nodded for her to continue. "He found another route."

McGonagall nodded again, her lips forming a tight smile as she looked at Hermione with pride in her eyes. "Another route, indeed, Miss Granger. But...it's incredibly dangerous and _very _far-fetched. Dumbledore originally intended it to be an if-all-else-fails plan, but I am presenting it to you as an alternative idea."

"So what is?" Harry asked sharply, speaking for the first time. In fact, it was first time that Hermione had heard him speak in several days, and she could have sworn she saw sadness flicker through McGonagalls' eyes as she noted the dark circles under his eyes and messy -messier- hair.

She glanced around nervously, and then raised her wand and flicked it, performing what Hermione recognized at the silencing charm, so that no one else would be able to hear them.

"Tell me, have either three of you heard of something called_ Vaggio attraverso il tempo_?"

"Travel through time," Hermione said quickly, and the boys on either side of her shared a knowing smirk. "Italian. It's an ancient magic ritual that was never perfected. It's a combination of a time turner and a portkey."

McGonagall smiled. "Exactly, Miss Granger. Travel through time. Meaning-"

"Meaning Dumbledore wanted us to go back and kill Tom Riddle," Hermione said, realization dawning in her eyes as she stared at McGonagall, disbelief written on her face. "Professor, you _can't _be serious!"

McGonagall raised her eyes. "Not kill him, per say, Miss Granger. But _somehow _prevent him from gaining the hold over the wizarding world that he has today. Dumbledore didn't go into complete specifics, but he explained how the spell works, and I could perform it."

"This is insane!" Hermione bolted to her feet and began pacing in front of the fire, the three of them watching her nervously. The two boys knew it would be Hermione making the final decisions in the plan. "_Tom Riddle_! The _epitome _of evil! Imagine us having to deal with that on a _daily basis_!"

"We already have to deal with him on a daily basis, Mi," Ron pointed out quietly, looking at her nervously from behind several strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes bright blue eyes.

"Still..."

"Think about it, Mione," Ron said, more confidently this time, standing as well. "Harry knows nearly _everything _about him! You know me, I'll handle the tactics, how to take him, down, strategy..." Hermione saw a twinkle of pride in Ron's eyes. "And _you, _Hermione. You're the only person our age in the _world _that's smart enough to handle him, and you know it. You've got an upper edge. We could _do _this!"

Hermione had never seen Ron so incredibly psyched about something, and she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

She turned her eyes to Harry, who was staring straight back at her. "...Harry?"

He sat frozen for a moment, eyes staring her down, and Hermione felt as though he was staring into her very soul. Finally, he rose and stepped towards her, reaching down and taking her hand. He pulled her hand out in front of her and pried open her palm, and dropped the fake horcrux locket into it, closing her fingers around it and patting her hand in a fatherly way. She looked up to see him looking at her, eyebrows raised slightly. "Can you do this? This thing we're gonna do?"

She raised her chin slight. "Harry, I'm Hermione Granger..." A small smirk took form on her face as she said smugly, "I can do _anything._"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood pressed against the wall as McGonagall put the finishing touches on the area that would take them to the forties. The circle was nearly transparent, except for a faint, eerie glow emitting from the area, making it seem ethereal.

"And...there!" McGonagall gave her wand one more flick, and then glanced at the area, satisfied. "It will take you directly to Hogwarts, 1944, the beginning of Tom Riddle's seventh and final year at Hogwarts." She looked at both of them, seriousness in her eyes more intense than any of them had ever seen. "Now, let's go over all this. It is more important than anything ever before."

She turned first to Ron, who looked nervous. "Mr. Weasley, you first."

Ron swallowed and nodded, stepping forward. "Ronald Hurst, son of Alexander and Caroline Hurst. Half-blood. Father was a wizard and mother was a Muggle."

McGonagall nodded and smiled encouragingly, turning to Harry next, whose hair had been lightened slightly so that it was now a messy mop of brown hair atop his head.

Harry cleared his throat. "Harry Macmillan, son of Ernest and Fidelia Macmillan. Pureblood. Brother of Hermione MacMillan"

Hermione smiled softly at them. "Hermione Macmillan, daughter of Ernest and Fidelia Macmillan. Pureblood. Sister of Harry Macmillan."

McGonagall nodded, a hand on either of their shoulders fondly. "Remember, though the Macmillan's are a prominent Pureblood family, they have not yet originated to England, so if anyone asks, you two have cousins in France." Harry and Hermione nodded simutaneously. "Now, how come you didn't come to Hogwarts before?"

It was Ron who answered. "Our parents, who were all very close family friends, and decided themselves worthy enough to teach us magic, and they worried of the dangers of Grindelwald."

"And why are you coming now?"

Harry answered this time. "Our parents, they were aurors, were killed in a battle that took place on the coast of Italy. They said in their will that it was their wish that we'd finish our education at the best school of witchcraft and wizardry that there is."

McGonagall looked at the three of them, and Hermione could have sworn for a second that her eyes glistened with tears. "This will be the most dangerous thing the three of you have ever gone through, but remember, more than anything, you must stick together, and don't _ever let your guard down_. Riddle is _always _aware and never faulty."

Harry nodded, wordlessly thanking McGonagall as she handed him the papers that would serve as their transfer documents, all of their backgrounds. "Remember, when you get there, _find Dumbledore_."

Harry nodded again, and then stepped into the circle slowly. Ron followed. With a trembling lip, Hermione stepped forward and quickly enveloped McGonagall in a hug before stepping back quickly into the ring.

"You have your trunks?"

Harry nodded again, patting his pocket where his shrunken trunk jangled against his leg. McGonagall raised her wand and started to mutter the incantation:

_"Da tempo necessario maggiore chiama la magia _

_Nel profondo i regni di antiche magie _

_Salto indietro nel tempo_

_Lontano, oltre che di un oggetto _

_La chiamata di antiche magie ora sconosciuti o dimenticati _

_Torna a momento buio _

_Bisogno di rifugio _

_Cambiamento _

_Differenza _

_28 Agosto _

_1944_

_Scuola di magia e stregoneria di Hogwarts _

_Chiamare realtà antica magia_

_Inviare queste anime lontano da casa"_

Hermione suddenly felt very dizzy and off-balance as the last words of the incantation slid of McGonagall's lips. Her vision became blurry, and she could no longer see the woman in front of her, nor the two boys beside her. It felt as though there was a great pressure on her body, squeezing her, almost like she was apparating. Then all at the once, the pressure released and she could breath again, as her body slammed into the cold ground, knocking the breath out of her lungs. With a hearty gasp, Hermione Granger was knocked unconscious.


	2. 1944

**Ok, guys, I'm gonna be nice this time and update, but _come _on, only _two _reviews? Thanks sweet-tang-honey_, _and waterflower20. :) So here goes numba 2! And puh-leez review!**

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Chapter Two: 1944

"...I read all the papers, Headmaster, really, it's completely reasonable."

Hermione's eyes fluttered open as she heard the familiar voice that she never thought she would hear again. She realized she was laying in an incredibly soft bed in a room which she recognized as the Hospital Wing.

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Albus," replied a gruff voice, and Hermione saw that the man that spoke was a short, round man with small beady eyes and a rippling black mustache. On the beds on either side of her she saw Harry and Ron sitting up, staring attentively at an auburn-haired, much younger-looking, _alive _Dumbledore, who was flipping through there papers. He suddenly looked up and met her eyes, realizing she was awake.

"Ah, Miss..." He glanced down to consult his papers once again. "Macmillan. Hermione Macmillan. Your...sister, I presume?" Dumbledore asked, glancing at Harry. Harry blinked rapidly, looking as though he had momentarily zoned out.

"Sorry, yes, sir, she is. My elder sister."

"Excellent, excellent," Dumbledore murmured. "Once you're all well, we'll get you off and sorted, is that alright, Headmaster Dippet?"

"What, oh, yes, yes, of course," Dippet said, forcing a strained smile onto his face as he looked at the new three students. "If you'll follow me?"

Hermione glanced nervously at the other two boys, who looked back at her, questions in their eyes, but rose nonetheless, and followed Dippet out of the Hospital Wing and in the direction of what Hermione knew to be the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore closed the door behind them and Dippet reached above his head to lift down the sorting hat. Dumbledore stood against the wall, watching interestedly.

"We normally don't sort till September 1st," Dippet told them as he set a rickety stool in front of them. "But we figured you wouldn't want to be sorted with a bunch of eleven-year-olds." Hermione smiled nervously. "Well then.. whose first?"

Hermione looked at Harry first, and then Ron, who were both looking at her expectantly, and then she rolled her eyes and stepped forward.

"You'll just place this on your head and-"

"I know," Hermione cut in, then cringed as Dippet looked at her suspiciously. "Sorry, it's just, I've read Hogwarts, a History about a dozen times."

Harry pretend to cough into his hand and she heard him mutter "_Bookworm_."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Unlike my _dear _brother," Hermione said, pretending to glare at Harry ."I take my education seriously."

"Hey, if Quidditch is counted as education, I'm a scholar."

At this Hermione giggled, just as the hat dropped over her eyes, and she was submersed into blackness. Her first year flashed before her eyes suddenly, as she remembered sitting on this same stool, the same, raggedy hat over her eyes, when she was much smaller of course, wondering nervously what house she'd be in, but at the same time jittering with anticipation. This time, around of course, she knew which house she'd be in...

_Hermione Granger_

She jumped, almost having forgotten how eerily disembodied that hat's voice was.

_**No, no, I'm Hermione Macmillan**_

The hat chuckled in her ear. _Whatever you say, darling. Now, last time I sorted you, in the future, of course, I put you in Gryffindor._

_**Where I belong.**_

The hat chuckled again, this time louder. _Perhaps. But there is another place you belong, that I could not put you last time, because of your destiny. _

Before she could question what it meant, the torn and ragged brim spread itself to from a pair of lips, and it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

She opened her eyes to see Harry and Ron gazing at her with awed expressions. "But-" Ron started but Hermione immediately silenced him with a glare. As she passed him, she hissed in his ear, "_Later!" _

He nodded and sat down on the stool, and Hermione watched as the hat shouted his placing mere seconds later. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione felt a twinge of jealous tweak at her heart. So Harry and Ron would be together in the Gryffindor dormitories, while she was stuck in the unfamiliar territory of Ravenclaw? It didn't seem fair.

It was finally Harry's turn, and as the hat slipped over his eyes, he flashed her a soft smile. Hermione waited patiently, wondering why the hat hadn't decided in seconds like it had for Ron. In fact, Harry's sorted took longer than the both of them. It had been over a minute when the hat finally opened its brim-mouth and shouted an answer that nearly knocked both she and Ron off their feet.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione stared at Harry as he stepped off the stool and moved to stand next to them, baffled when she realized that he didn't look surprised; on the contrary, he looked like he had expected nothing less to happen.

"Very well!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together, smiling widely. "All very noble houses. Now, if you'll follow me, I shall lead you to your dormitories." As he led them out of the office and towards the Grand Staircase, he pointed out random aspects of Hogwarts, which they were already aware of, but that they acted surprised nonetheless.

"Now, Mr. Hurst and Miss Macmillan, both your dormitories, the Ravenclaw Common Room and the Gryffindor Common Room, are towers, whereas the Slytherin Common Room is down in the dungeons." He turned and winked at Harry. "It's rather drafty down there, so I hope you brought extra sweaters." Harry smiled, fondly remembering Dumbledore's strange sense of humor.

As they drew nearer to the Slytherin Common Room, it did indeed seem to get colder. They came to a long, dimly-lit hall, which they made there way to the end of, where a portrait of an elegantly dressed woman was on the wall.

"Password?" she asked in a snooty voice. Dumbledore tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, I think, my lady, at least until the prefects arrive to change it, we will have it be 'Salazar', yes?"

She sniffed and nodded, swinging open. Harry glanced inside nervously. Dumbledore smiled encouragingly. "The boy's dormitories are down the left hallway, and you'll come to a door labeled '7', and you can chose any bed you like." He smiled. "If you need anything, you'll find me."

Harry nodded. Hermione stepped forward and reached her arms around him to hug him, and whispered in his ear, "Room of Requirement, seven-thirty."

He nodded and disappeared into the common room, the portrait swinging shut behind him.

"Alright, Ravenclaw, next, I think." Dumbledore swiftly led them up to the fifth floor, where, instead of a portrait, there was a knobless door with a single eagle knocker.

"This is a little trickier, Miss Macmillan. Here you'll find no password, nor key, but a riddle." He lifted a long-fingered hand and tapped the knocker once, sharply.

A smooth, disembodied voice said, "_What always runs, but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?"_

"Hmm, one of the longer ones, I see," Dumbledore ventured, but Hermione just smirked and turned to face the knocker again, throwing a confident wink it Ronald's direction.

"A river." She said simply, and the door swung open. The Ravenclaw Common Room was much different then the Gryffindor Common Room. It appeared almost _cozier _to Hermione. The fireplace was slightly larger, and the walls were lined with rows and rows of _books_. It was like they had their own personal library in here. Scattered about the room were various couches, chairs, and tables, and Hermione could not have imagined a more suitable haven. She sighed loftily, and she could have sworn she heard Ronald chuckle. "Seven-thirty," she reminded him softly, before the door swung shut behind her. She glanced around the room once more before moving towards the staircases on the left and moving up until she finally came to a door labeled '7'. She pushed open the door cautiously.

Inside was a fairly simple room, made up of five beds with blue and bronze walls in here too were lined with books and a much smaller fireplace crackled in a corner. Yes, these were much cozier than the small, chilly, and often cramped Gryffindor girls' dormitories, though Hermione supposed it would be more crowded when the other girls arrived.

She chose the bed nearest to the window and pulled her trunk out of her pocket, unshrinking it and going through her 1940's garb, which was, thankfully, not all that different from the modern Hogwart's uniform. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was seven, and that she'd better get dinner before she went to meet the boys.

Climbing down the Grand Staircase was a slightly less laborious duty than it had been while staying the the Gryffindor Tower, she supposed, because they were two floors higher. As she entered the Great Hall, she immediately spotted Ron and Harry, who had apparently had the same idea as her, sitting at the Gryffindor table, chuckling heartily about something. She strode over to them and sat down beside them, immediately loading her plates with sweets that had been laid out just especially for them.

After a moment of silence, Hermione glanced up at Harry with a sly smirk and asked coyly, "How's the serpents' lair?"

"How's the bookworms' joint?" he replied craftily, snatching a grape off her plate and popping it into his mouth.

"Touche, Macmillan, touche."

"Thank you, Macmillan."

"You're very welcome, Macmillan."

"Would you two cut it out?" Ron snapped finally, holding back a smile and Hermione gigged.

"Isn't it nicer though, with just the three of us, rather than a whole bunch of people," Hermione questioned, leaning back in her seat and observing the two of them as they stuffed their faces.

"Nah, no fun," Ron said thickly around a mouthful of chicken. "No girls to look at."

Not noticing Hermione's horrified face, Harry sniggered. "Yeah, wonder if they make'em like they do back home? Nice arse and a feisty attitude."

"Harry!" Hermione reached over the table and swatted his hand before Ron could reply. They both blinked at her, surprised.

"Sorry, Mione, it's just...sometimes we forget you're a girl," Ron said, and then, realizing his mistake, smiled sheepishly at her, shrugging as his freckled face turned red. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him; cheeks puffed out from having so much food stuffed in his mouth, bright red face contrasting extravagantly with his red hair.

"Well, I'll be off," Harry said, standing up and brushing his hands off on his shirt. "I'll meet you two up there in fifteen minutes."

Hermione nodded and waved to him as he left. She and Ron started up the great staircase, walking in a comfortable silence before Ron spoke. "Mione..."

She glanced up at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. He meekly continued, seeming to flush under her direct gaze. "This Tom Riddle thing, you don't think Dumbledore meant...something else...when he said we should change stuff...do you?"

"What do you mean?"

Ron looked slightly uncomfortable as he trudged up the staircase, scratching his head. "I mean...well...you know how he said Riddle couldn't...ya know..._feel_? Maybe he wants you to get him to feel. Like...make him fall in love with you."

Hermione suddenly understood what he meant all too well, and she blinked, realizing why Ron was so uncomfortable. "Oh...uh...no, no, no...I, uh... I don't think that was Dumbledore's initial objective...because...well, that's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed shrilly, letting out a nervous laugh. Ron laughed nervously too, and seemed altogether much too pleased when he realized they had reached the Room of Requirement, cutting the conversation short.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them sat huddled around a cozy fire, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. Harry gazed at the two of them nervously before he spoke. "So...uh...what's the plan?"

Hermione and Ron shared an unsure glance and then looked back at him, shrugging. Sighing heavily, Harry's head dropped into his hands, and Hermione recognized his sign of frustration, not with them, but himself.

"Dumbledore didn't clarify," she said slowly. "So we've kind of have to go on our own whim, here. I mean, if Riddle seems potentionally dangerous to _us, _in particular, we'll have to find a way to dispose of him as soon as possible." Hermione shivered slightly as she used the word 'dispose''; she didn't like to think of human beings as being 'disposable'. "If, however, he seems somewhat pliant-"

"Which he won't be-" Harry cut in quickly.

"Then we might just have to be...observers. See how much he's willing to give us."

"Right then," Harry rose to his feet, and Hermione saw his leadership mode turn on, and she smiled softly. "Guidelines and regulations..." He glanced at Hermione gain. "I'm in Slytherin. If, by any chance, I grow somewhat closer to him, and I'm offered to join his club thingie-"

"Knights of Walpurgis," Hermione reminded him patiently.

"Right, that...well, if I'm invited to join that..."

"On certain terms..." Hermione said slowly. "I believe it would be in our best interest for you to accept the offer, because the information we could get from those kinds of encounters would be infailable."

Hermione sat up slowly, looking at each of them in turn. "Ron, I'm sorry, but you'll want to listen to this part, because, no offense, but you'll struggle with it most. We must _not _let Riddle know that we know what he is. No predisposed feelings of ill-will, we have to treat him like an indifferent individual." She looked at Ron apologetically when he frowned. "You're the worst at hiding your emotions, so he'll flock to you like a hungry animal, but you must not let him get into you're head. The fact that none of us know Occlumency very well in our situation is going to be _incredibly _precarious, but most of this mission lies entirely in the hands of fate and luck."

Harry grimaced, looking at the both of them with more seriousness in his eyes than Hermione had ever seen. "Then we'll be damned if the fates don't hold us in high stadards."


	3. The King Of Snakes

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**A/N: _Wow _guys thanks for all..._five _reviews. Way to really stretch yourself. Just kidding, just kidding. Thanks sweet-tang-honney(yours so consistently faithful!), edwardloverr, and Wicked Sapphira. It really means a lot to me peeps :) And in case I didn't say so in the first chapter, the Disclaimer (all belongs to J.K Rowling and any other familiar themes, ladida, all that junk :)) goes for _all _the chapters. Hope I'm doing alright guys, and once again, plz no flames. :D Feel free to point out any grammar mistakes, spelling errors, etc... I always find them very helpful! **

**Alright, no more rambling :)...**

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Chapter Three: The King of Snakes

September 1st seemed to come too soon for Hermione, and as she watched from the Ravenclaw Tower as students flocked off the boats and the carriages, Hermione felt the ridiculous sudden urge to go hide under her bed. But, because of her Gryffindor nature, Hermione dragged herself down the grand staircase and into the Great Hall, sitting down, for the first time, and the Ravenclaw table. She smiled grimly and waved at Ron, who looked more comfortable at the Gryffindor table, and Harry, who looked on the verge of tears sitting at the table beneath a sea of silver and green.

It was not long before the older students joined them, and Hermione saw several of them glance curiously at the three early birds. Hermione was looking anxiously at Ron for help when two bodies sat down on either side of her, and two directly across from her.

"So you're the new girl they were talking about on the train?" the girl on her direct right asked. She was a Black girl with long, dark hair that fell to the middle of her back and sparkling eyes. Hermione realized she was very pretty.

"Erm...yes, yes I am."

The girl smiled widely and offeredher a hand. "Hi, I'm Cassie Max, and this," she gestured to the girl on Hermione's left, "Is Cindy Phillips." The blonde girl offered Hermione a small smile, and she smiled in return. "Across from you here, is Samantha Burke," Cassie pointed to a dark-haired, incredibly pale girl who smiled shyly at Hermione. "And last, but _certainly _not least, is Lydia Greengrass." She pointed to the last girl, who was staring at Hermione unabashedly, but when Hermione smiled tentatively, she did not return the smile.

"So, where did you come from...?" Cassie trailed off and Hermione realized that she hadn't told any of them her name.

"Oh, sorry, Hermione. Hermione Macmillan."

"Hermione, oooh, that's pretty!" Cassie said, grinning at her.

The girl on her left, Cindy, rolled her eyes. "Don't mind her, she's got a short attention span." Hermione laughed. "So, where are you from, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed. This was the moment, what they'd rehearsed for, hours upon hours on end. "Well, I've lived in England all my life, but my parents homeschooled me, and it wasn't until this summer, when they died in combat on the coast of Italy that I was told that they wished, in their will, for me to attend Hogwarts to complete my education."

"Oh, I'm sorry about your parents. That's so sad, and so recent, too," Cassie said, looking horrified. Cindy nodded quickly in agreement.

Samantha reached over and patted Hermione's hand, sincere sympathy in her eyes. "You're handling it _very _well. I can tell you're incredibly strong, with what you've been through." Hermione smiled softly at the girl, fondness in her gaze. She seemed slightly unfocused, and that trait reminded Hermione endearingly of Luna.

But the other girl, Lydia, just peered more intensely at Hermione, something in her eyes flickering and disappearing before Hermione could place it. Hermione stared right back at her, wondering why this girl seemed to have immediately taken a disliking to her.

After the sorting and the feast, she walked with the four girls up to the Ravenclaw tower, but was surprised when they stopped at the door, starting to giggle.

"Ooh, I'll get you this time, Cindy!" Cassie said excitedly. At Hermione's confused glance, it was Samantha who answered.

"It's something of a competition between the two," she explained. "They're both very smart, but usually Cindy answers the question a few seconds faster, and the couple times Cassie has got it, she's been wrong." Samantha grinned at her, and Hermione smirked.

"_The more you have of it, the less you see. What is it?"_

The two girls glanced at each other, and then narrowed there eyes. "It's...umm..." Cassie scrunched up her nose, while Cindy, with an air of completely confindence, turned back the door and replied lazily,

"Darkness."

The door swung open, and Cassie let out a yelp, pouncing toward Cindy, who bounded off, running up the staircase to safety. Samantha laughed at Hermione's baffled face. "Don't worry, common behavior."

Hermione found that she liked her knew housemates very much, except for the quiet and always observing Lydia Greengrass. She had heard the name Greengrass before in the future wizarding society, spoken as a Pureblood name, and Hermione remembered the Greengrass girls that had gone to Hogwarts in her time, so she had always thought that they were all Slytherins, but here was Lydia, infiltrating Ravenclaw with her brazenness.

At seven-thirty, Hermione set out to the room of requirements, excusing herself by telling the girls she had to go discuss her class schedule with Dippet, an excuse which was passed with nothing more than a cold, single, risen eyebrow from Lydia. She arrived to find Harry and Ron fully engaged in an animated conversation of the now-a-days Gryffindors.

"So what _are _they like, Ron?" Hermione asked curiously.

He grinned. "Oh, you gotta love'em. I met one of my ancestors, and one of Harry's too! They're all so great! There's Jack Weasley, I think he's a great-uncle or something, but man, the guy's _hilarious_! You really should hear some of his Slytherin jokes. And then there's Charlus Potter, whose absolutely _obsessed _with Quidditch! He's brilliant, though, from what I've heard. And then there's Donnie Thomas, he's like an ancestor of Dean or somethin', and _man _that kids a daredevil! Ate _seventeen_vomit-flavored Bertie Bott's-_without vomiting_! And then there's Teires, he's kinda like you, Mione, real quiet and brainy, but he's a funny guy once you get him to talk."

"Don't forget about Lucy," Harry reminded him, looking thoroughly amused. He caught Hermione's eye and smirked at Ron's enthusiasm.

"Oh yeah, Lucy Peterson. She's the _only _Gryffindor girl in our year! Can you believe that? Only one girl! She's _really _cool, though, hanging around with us guys. Real tough chick, but funny."

Hermione smiled at Ron fondly, and then turned to Harry. "And hows Slytherin?"

Harry frowned, looking unsure. "They're all very...welcoming. There's four other guys and three girls. Riddle's there of course, but he's _really _quiet, so I didn't hear much of him. And then there's Abraxas Malfoy-"

Hermione groaned. "Ugh, is he just _obnoxious_?"

"Actually, no." Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "He's actually my favorite. Real funny guy, has a good sense of humor. Didn't push me around too much." Harry smiled. "And then there was Niles Lestrange. He was kind of a quiet kid, really nice though. Seemed more Hufflepuffish to me. Then Edward Burke, he's kind of a prankster. Him and Brax mess around a lot."

"And the three girls?" Hermione asked slyly, watching for his reaction. Harry turned pink ever so slightly, glancing up at her and then quickly looking back away.

"Well, there's Sirius's mother, Walburga, and she's everything I didn't expect."

"How so?" Hermione asked absently, lifting a random book on the tableside and flipping through it.

"Well, for starters, she's beautiful," Harry pointed out, his face reddening even further. "But she's also a bit shy, and quiet, and she kind of seems like the runt of the pack. Then there's Druella. Man, she's a laugh. Funniest girl I've ever met. Kinda has a darker appearance but she's really a warm person."

"And...Lucretia?" Hermione asked, having heard the name somewhere around the school.

Harry frowned , staring into the flames. "Lucretia wasn't as friendly. She wasn't mean, just..."

"Guarded," Hermione tested.

"Guarded," Harry agreed. He stared absentmindedly at the flames for a while before he snapped his attention back to her. "And how's Ravenclaw?"

She smiled softly. "I like it. There are four girls in my year, Cassie and Cindy, who are both funny and a little wild at times, and Samantha, whose kind of quiet, but very nice."

She frowned. "But then there's Lydia. She's not like Pansy or the Slytherin girls or anything, not mean, just...mysterious."

"So all and all I think we don't have to worry about any threats from the inside," Harry concluded. "Which, I'll admit, had me a little worried at first. But I think all our housemates are very trustable, well, for the most part. Slytherins aren't _completely _trustable."

Ron grinned and Hermione rolled her eyes, but then she looked back at Harry unsurely. "Harry, I've been meaning to ask you about...about our sorting."

Harry grimaced, as if he had been expecting this. "Well, Ron I guess, before, back in _our _time, he had all the qualitites of a Gryffindor-"

"But so do we," Hermione pointed out.

"However," Harry said, holding up a finger to silence her. "It has to do with intertwining destinies. That's what the hat told me, anyway."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yeah, the hat said something about destiny to me, as well. When I asked why I was in Ravenclaw, this time around."

"I think..." Harry said slowly. "I think, naturally at first, we had to establish a friendship, because the three of us were destined to be the defeaters of Voldemort. It would have been a little more difficult to be as close as we are today had it not been the circumstances were as they were. If not for the fact that she needed to be there for us at all times, Hermione would have probably been placed in Ravenclaw last time around. And if not for the fact that I needed to be in the house that was opposing the Dark Lord so as not to be surrounded by bad influences, and if not for the fact that I ask it not to, the sorting hat would've placed me in Slytherin."

"Wait, it tried to place you in Slytherin last time?" Ron asked, bewildered. Harry nodded.

"Last time, remember I had already had a run in with Malfoy and I had heard all this bad stuff about it, so I was already convinced that it was the last place I wanted to be. This time, I had our mission in mind, so I decided to just go with the flow."

Hermione smiled at him, realizing that it was an incredibly brave thing of Harry to do; to _willingly _place himself in the pit of the snakes, while she and Ron were in comfortable atmospheres, but it was also a very _Harry _thing to do.

"Well, we best be off to bed," Ron said, rising and yawing widely as he glanced down at his watch. The two of them waved to him as he set off down the hall in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower, and then the two of them made their way down the grand staircase. When they stopped in front of the knocker, Harry stopped her, turning her to face him, both hands on her shoulders.

"Hermione, I'm a great deal worried about you. He's bound to take interest in the three of us because we arrived so suddenly, but he's bound to be the _most _interested in you, because of your intelligence. You must not let him know how much we know about him."

Hermione nodded, looking Harry directly in the eyes. "Don't worry, brother. I can _handle _him. And who knows," she threw over her shoulder nonchalantly as she turned to the bronze knocker. "We're in different house. Whose to say that I might never even talk to the guy?"

* * *

Needless to say, of course, Hermione was _quite _wrong in her assumption, because she became aquainted with the young dark lord the very next day.

Her first class was Potions, with the Slytherins, and thankfully, they were greeted at the door, not by a sallow Snape, but by a jovial, round-bellied Slughorn.

"_Oho_!" Slughorn exclaimed upon seeing them, and practically the entire class turned around to watch them. "You two must be Mr. and Miss Macmillan. A pleasure to have you at our fine school."

Harry blushed as he realized the entire class was watching this exchange, but Hermione just smiled gracefully, inclining her head. "It's a pleasure to be here, sir." He beamed at her and ushered them into the classroom. Hermione realized that the class was perfectly divided; Ravenclaws and Slytherins. A little anxiously, Harry peered at her, and she smirked. She gave him a coy little wave and nudged him over to the Slytherin side, while she sat down beside Cindy. She saw Harry sit down next to one of the Slytherins, a blonde boy that could only be Abraxas.

"Oh, Hermione, did you meet the boys last night?" Cindy asked her, gesturing to the two boys that sat in front of them, who were turned around to face them, grinning. They were both blonde, and as they smirked at her, they reminded her a bit of Fred and George. "This is Bruno Patrick and Lionel Kirkland, our resident pranksters." They waved at her and she smiled shyly back. "And over there," she pointed to the table where a dark haired boy was sitting beside Cassie, "Is Jasper Shei." He gave a small nod and smile. "And that's Trevor Collins," she pointed to the last boy, who was sitting with Samantha and Hermione immediately noted that their hands were twined. He smiled at her softly.

"Are they...together?" she asked Cindy quietly. Cindy glanced back at the two and then grinned at Hermione.

"Yes, they've been together since third year." Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I know. It's like they were made for each other." Hermione found herself smiling as she glanced back at the couple, who reminded her incredibly of Harry and Ginny when they had been together.

"Alright, settle down, settle down!" Slughorn boomed, making Hermione jump. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Harry smirk at her. "Now, welcome to Potions, seventh years! I'm sure you're all very excited to be here, but this year, I'm going to...shake things up a bit." The wicked gleam in Slughorn's eyes had Hermione incredibly worried. "This year, we're going to have a bit of inter-house parternership. I'm going to pair you all up with someone in the opposite house, and each class, you will how a different partner from the opposite house, to encourage versatility."

Groans were heard throughout the classroom, and Slughorn cast a disapproving eye over the lot of them. "Now, now, quiet down, it won't be all that bad." He looked down at his list of students. "Now then, let's get started..." Hermione absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around her finger as Slughorn listed off the names, mentally praying that she wasn't paired with Riddle.

"Tell me, Hermione," Jasper whispered when he was paired up with Harry. "Is your brother a git?"

"Only to me," she replied jokingly, and he threw her a fleeting grin.

"And Miss Macmillan, with Mr. Malfoy, if you please."

She sighed and stood, lifting her bag and moving to the table that was occupied by a blonde boy who was grinning disarmingly at her. As she sat down, he held out a hand. "Abraxas Malfoy at your service. Any service really, a shoulder to cry on, a study buddy...a good snog...I gotcha covered, babe," the last suggestion was accompanied by a suave wink, and Hermione felt her face turn very red as he brushed his lips across her knuckles.

"Erm...right...Hermione Macmillan," she murmured, looking down at her lap. He smirked.

"Ah, Harry's sister." She nodded. "Your brother's a laugh, fits right in with us slimy snakes." Hermione looked up, surprised, as Abraxas said that, surprised that an actual _Slytherin _didn't deny the stereotype.

"I can't say I'm surprised," she grinned, looking over at Harry, who quirked an eyebrow and then smirked at Abraxas, who grinned.

"Right, well, I'll get the stuff."

Hermione nodded and started the cauldron, brewing it to the exact temperature that it said in the book. Abraxas returned with the ingredients, asking only once if she needed help, in which she replied that she prefered to work alone, a fact that he seemed content with. As she worked, Abraxas conversed easily with her, and Hermione found that he was a lot more easy-going and good-natured than his grandson. Hermione realized she actually had met a Slytherin that she genuinely _liked_.

As Slughorn came around, looking at each tables potions, he stopped at theirs, eyes wide. "My, my, _my, _Miss Macmillan! It appears you've got _quite _the knack for Potions. Perhaps, Miss Macmillan, if you're free on Thursday, I hold the occasional get together, _special _students, of course. I'd be very pleased if you joined us."

"I'd be honoured, sir," she replied, smiling brightly, while inside she was internally groaning. Harry gave here a taunting glance, that is, until Slughorn came over and told him he'd be welcome, as well.

As Hermione left the classroom, Harry and some of his Slytherin friends fell into step with her, one of which she recognized as Abraxas and the others that she identified as Niles Lestrange and Edward Burke. "Do we _have _to go to his stupid slug club thingie?"

Hermione smirked, striding ahead of his, and over her shoulder she called back simply in a singsong voice, "_Kar-ma!"_

Abraxas snickered and Harry glared after her. "Man, your sisters a babe."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, and Abraxas just shook his head, grinning. "So you going to dueling club Friday night, mate?"

Harry grimaced, thinking of the last time he had been in a dueling club, in second year with Professor arrogant toad. All the same, Harry figured it would be a good way to stretch his wand legs.

"Yeah, probably. Don't know how I'll do though," Harry said, faking modesty, and Abraxas clapped him on the back.

"You can't be too shabby if your parents were aurors. They must've taught you something."

Harry nodded, but tensed as he felt a darker presence near him. Tom had fallen into step with Abraxas. Abraxas, however, turned and nodded friendlily at the newcomer.

"How's it going, Tom? Did you have fun working with Kirkland?" Harry saw the smallest smirk at the corner of Abraxas's mouth. Apparently, it was common knowledge that Tom and Lionel didn't get along.

"Abraxas, I suggest you don't waste your sarcasm on me," he grumbled. "I'm in a foul mood. I swear, some of those Ravenclaw's are as bad as the Gryffindors."

Harry tensed his jaw, hearing his firm, domineering voice that the others boys seemed to instantly agree with. He hated seeing him walking there, mere feet away from him, with all the confidence in the world.

"Nothing against your sister, of course, Macmillan," he added, glancing at Harry. There gazes locked, and Harry nodded slowly, swallowing the urge to take those few extra steps and throttle the man. Spotting a freckly, gangly, redhaired figure ahead, Harry called,

"Oi, Ronniekins!" he bellowed, and Ron turned, blinking, but his eyes narrowed when he saw who it was. The boys snickered when Ron actually responded to the name. The gangly boy towered over them as they approached, however, and their chuckles were cut short.

"I _told _you not to call me that," he grumbled, swatting at Harry's head, and Harry ducked, reaching up to pinch Ron's cheek.

"Oh, does it bother ickle Ronniekins?" Ron growled and and Harry scampered out of the way, dodging Ron's attacks. As he waved to the boy, and fell back in step with the Slytherin's, Edward arched an eyebrows.

"So you're friends with the Ravenclaws _and _the Gryffindors?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, Hermione _is _my sister, and we've known Ron since we were toddlers, so..."

"Typical Gryffindor," Niles smirked. "To have red hair. Did you know Godric himself was a redhead?"

"Yeah, Hermione told me," Harry said, remembering the lecture Hermione had given him on _all _the founder's appearances. "Apparently he wasn't the smartest fellow, either."

"Doesn't really surprise you, does it?" Niles shrugged. "I mean, Gryffindor was known for being an _amazing _dueler, for bravery and recklessness. Hufflepuff was known for being loyal, but I also heard she was a bit of ditzy blonde."

Abraxas scowled at this. "Why, whenever someone says ditzy, do they need to compare it to blondeness?"

"Because generally, when someone is a ditz, they're blonde," Harry pointed out mockingly. "And Helga _was _blonde."

"Ravenclaw was known for being all smart and stuff, and a ridiculous amount of curiosity. Slytherin was just..." Niles stopped, thinking of an appropriate word.

"Slytherin." The four boys said simutaneously, and even Riddle smirked.

Thursday evening found Harry and Hermione making their way down the long hall that led to Slughorns office. Harry complained the whole way there about having to go, and Hermione was a second away from hexing him before Slughorn opened the door, ushering them in. Hermione took her seat at the table, Harry on her right and Lionel, who waved friendlily at her, on her left. Abraxas Malfoy smirked at her from on the other side of Harry.

"Well, now that everyone's assembled, shall we begin?" Food appeared on the table in front of them, and the boys on either side of Hermione began to eat greedily.

"Pig," she muttered to Harry, who grinnned cheekily at her.

"What did you get in for?" asked Lionel, rolling his eyes as Slughorn continued to bombard a Hufflepuff boy with questions.

"Apparently I've got 'a knack for potions', Hermione replied, grimacing. "But I have a feeling that's not his only motive."

And indeed, it wasn't, Hermione realized as the night wore on. Slughorn stood up, clearing his throat to get the attention of the rest of the table. On his right, Hermione realized, was Tom Riddle, and just as she was about to look away, he caught her eye. She held the gaze, even though she felt like screaming in absolute _terror_, and when he finally looked away, Hermione felt relief wash over her.

"Since this is the first meeting of the year, some of you might not know each other, so why don't we start with some introductions." He first put a hand on Tom's shoulder, smiling down at him proudly. "_This, _ladies and gentleman, is Tom Riddle, resident headboy and, in my opinion, most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever taught." He beamed down at Tom, and Tom smiled charismatically at him. "Next to Tom, here, we have..."

Hermione zoned out as he introduced person after person, who were, in some way, spectacular. She snapped back to reality when he said the name Lydia Greengrass, who was next to Lionel, and found her piercing eyes on her.

"Miss Greengrass here, has many prominent family members in the Ministry of Magic. Her mother is a tomb raider, and raids the lands where the darkest wizards and witches have roamed, and her father, rest is soul, was the head auror in Egypt." Lydia said nothing throughout this speech; her dark eyes flickered around the room, taking in everything, and Hermione realized that she was annoyed, with Slughorn or some else, though, she didn't know.

"And this, my friends, in Lionel Kirkland, son of the famous beater, and captain of the Falmouth Falcons, Telemachus 'Iron-hand' Kirkland. Lionel's father also was the inventor of the Falmouth Falcon's club motto..." He trailed off, lightly smacking the back of Lionel's head.

Lionel sighed and recited, "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads."

Several of the rowdy Gryffindors at the end of the table began to shout and cheer. "Go Falcons!" a boy that Hermione identified as Jack Weasley shouted.

Slughorn chuckled, and then moved so that he was standing between she and Harry, and hand on either of their shoulders. Hermione swallowed as all the attention suddenly shifted to them. "So Mr. and Miss Macmillan, Hogwarts newest arrivals. I understand that you joined our family because of your parents death?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said softly, and Hermione was proud to see his face shift into a miserable expression. Slughorn patted his shoulder, and Hermione barely resisted sniggering.

"So, Miss Macmillan, you have quite the talent in Potions, I've observed, and, according to your records, you're just as efficient in every other class as well. In fact, it seems as though our head boy will have quite the competition this year. Tom rarely _ever _has competition!"

Swallowing her fear, she looked directly at Tom and smirked. "Yes, well that _will _have to change, won't it?" He arched a single eyebrow at her, and she held his gaze, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Slughorn was looking between the two of them with excitement glistening in his eyes.

"Well, well, well, this year will be _most _interesting." He moved on to the next person, but Tom held her gaze, and Hermione saw a flicker of irritation in his eyes and her smirk widened. She gave him a condescending look that clearly said, _It's _on, _Riddle._

And on it was.

Hermione stepped out of Slughorn's office feeling rather fatigued. "God, I'm glad that's over." Hermione nodded in agreement and smiled as Lionel fell into step with them.

"Isn't he exhausting?" Lionel muttered in agitation. "To think I've been going to that club since my third year, too."

Hermione grinned cheekily up at him. "You're just too nice to say no."

He smirked down at her, eyebrows raised, and Hermione thought at that moment that he looked _very _Slytherin. "'Nice' isn't exactly the right word, Miss Macmillan."

She waved to Harry as they passed the dungeons and she and Lionel continued up the Ravenclaw common room in silence. "You and Riddle will be at each other's necks, I suppose, if you're really as brilliant as Slughorn says you are."

It was Hermione's turn to smirk as she looked up at him slyly. "Oh, trust me, I am."

He raised in eyebrows in surprise. "Cocky, aren't we?"

"Only when I have a reason to be."

She waved to Lionel as he disappeared into his respective dormitory, and Hermione walked up her own stairs, sinking tiredly into her bed, and she fell asleep, fully dressed.


	4. A Difference

**A/N: My longest chapter yet ladies and gents! Over 7,000 words! Haha I _really _like this chapter, and I'm hoping you will all like it to. This is my second update tonight, but now I've got to get back to writing. I had written three chapters when I originally published this story, so now that I'm all caught up, I better get cracka lackin! :D**

**Umm...I haven't got much else to say. There's something that I feel like I need to say, but I can't remember what...haha...don't you hate when that happens? Anyway...BOOM! Lets go! :D**

* * *

Chapter Four: A Difference

As seven o'clock approached, Hermione felt her anticipation rising, and she could tell Harry felt the same. She hadn't dueled for weeks, and that fact made her feel a little rusty, but as she, Harry, and Ron practiced in the Room of Requirement, she felt her nerves seep away to be replaced by excitement.

Hermione walked down to the Great Hall with Harry and Ron, and wasn't all that surprsied when she saw all the tables and benches had disappeared to be replaced by a long platform that took up most of the hall. Harry and Ron waved to her as she went to go stand by the Ravenclaws.

"So how do they pick who goes first?" she whispered to Lionel, noting how quiet the hall was. Everyone seemed jumpy.

"Usually Slughorn or Dumbledore will pick a pair, but sometimes students can just go up if they want. Usually, no one's too willing to go first. I've gone up first a couple times though, and it's not so bad."

"Are you any good?" Hermione asked him, and Lionel could see a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Good enough to handle you, I suppose. I've dueled a _lot _of people in here. I've only lost twice."

"Cocky, aren't we?" Hermione mocked, using his own words against him. He chuckled, looking back up at the platform, where Dumbledore was now standing in the center of, wand raised to his temple.

"Touche, Macmillan."

"Welcome to the first dueling club of the year!" Boomed Dumbledore, his voice bouncing off the walls. "Do I have a volunteer to go first?"

Lionel looked around, and after seeing no one raising their hand, he stepped forward, smirking at Dumbledore. "I'll have a go, professor." Dumbledore smiled proudly at him, and Hermione saw that Lionel was one of Dumbledore's favorites.

"Very well, Mr. Kirkland. Pick your opponent."

Lionel smirked and looked around the room, his eyes focusing on each individual. He glanced at Hermione, and his smirk widened into a grin as he winked at her, but then turned to a boy a few meters away from her.

"You." He said, extending a long finger. Hermione realized he was pointed at the redhead boy who had shouted 'go falcons!' at Slughorn's last club meeting. The boy-Jack Weasley-laughed heartily as he climbed onto the platform, and Hermione realized that though he may be related to Ron, he was nothing like him. He walked with a sort of swagger, and his muscles were intimitdatingly big. He was very broad and not expressly tall. Hermione realized he must be a beater. Her thoughts were confirmed as Lionel said next, "This is for Gryffindors _hardly _fair win last year against Ravenclaw for the cup." Several of the Gryffindors cat-called or jeered, and Hermione realized what this was about; _Quidditch_.

The two boys bowed to each other, neither one taking their eyes off the other, both their faces serious, but Hermione saw the amusement in their eyes and realized that they must be friends.

It was Jack that fired first. A bolt of red light shot out of his wand towards Lionel, who easily side-stepped it, quirking a blonde brow. "That the best you got, Weasley?"

Jack growled, his eyebrows furrowing, and he continued to fire spell after spell, all of which Lionel dodged or blocked. Finally, sighing heavily, Lionel flicked is wand towards Jack, and yellow spell hurtled towards Jack, and he _barely _raised a shield in time.

To her right, Hermione saw the Gryffindors cheering raucously, Ron among the pack, between a very tall, tan muscley boy and a very pretty blonde witch. She saw Harry's grandfather on the blonde witches left, and realized that he, much like Jack, didn't look much like Harry. He, too, was much broader, and had very light blue eyes.

Hermione's eyes snapped back to the platform as she heard a loud _thud. _Jack had landed on his back, and his wand was in Lionel's hand. Applause broke out from all the houses, even the Gryffindors, though they looked reluctant, and Lionel strode over and held out a hand for Jack. Jack pretended to glare at him, but when he stood, he shook his hand.

"That's payback, bro," Lionel said.

"Yeah, well, payback's a bitch." Lionel chuckled and climbed off the platform. Dumbledore returned to his spot and magnified his voice again.

"Spectacular duel Mr. Weasley, Mr. Kirkland! Now, whose next?"

"Me," said a voice, and Hermione was surprised when she saw Harry step up onto the platform. Dumbledore nodded, clapping a hand on his shoulder, and then strode down the steps, moving to stand with the rest of the teachers. Hermione had a bad feeling in her gut-

Harry strode across the platform, stopping just in front of where she stood. She looked up at his smirking face, and he raised his eyebrows. "Hermione. _If _you can handle it."

Hermione grinned and moved toward the platform as Lionel whispered, "Good luck." She nodded, smiling at him softly and then climbing onto the platform, her eyes on Harry, who was standing at his end of the platform, twirling his wand. She walked closer to him and they bowed.

"Don't worry, Harry," she said in a carrying voice. "I'll go easy on you."

"Oooh!" She heard from the Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors, and Harry's eyebrows shot up as she turned away, walking back to her side and facing him again. Abraxas's face was wrought with glee, and Hermione had a feeling he and Niles had places bets on who would win.

"C'mon, Hermione!" She heard Cassie call.

"Let's go, Harry!" she heard Abraxas shout.

She took her stance and he did to, ready for her to make the move. Hermione kept her eyes locked with his.

The movement was so sudden that she saw Harry _nearly _stumble. She flicked her wand, almost unnoticeably, and a bright white light was racing toward him. However, he deflected it quickly, and quite suddenly, they were dueling. They were sending curse after curse, hex after hex, exchanging spells so fast that it seemed blurry. The rest of the hall seemed not able to take their eyes off the sight; they have never seen _this_kind of duel before.

Hermione sent out a stream of nonverbal spells; _Diffindo; Expelliarmus; Stupefy; Vinisco!_

That threw Harry off. He stumbled back, dodging curse after curse, diving out of the way of the last one. They were both breathing heavily as the exertion from the duel was starting to wear them down. Hermione took a deep breath; time to step it up a notch.

As if he had the same thought, Harry flicked his wand. _Incendio!_

Hermione watched as the flame whirled toward her, and smirking, she raised her hands, the flame followed the movement. She breathed deeply in, controlling all her energy, and then muttered, "_Engorcendio!" _It seemed as if her magic was actually _feeding _the fire, and it built up taller and taller until there was an actual _wall of fire _behind her. Hermione pushed her hands forward, using all of her strength, and the wall charged toward Harry.

Harry's eyes widened for a split second, before he remembered to keep his cool. _Balance_, he thought. He bent down, curling himself into a standing ball, focusing all his energy on balancing out the fire. He completely encased himself in a protective shield of water. The fire stuttered and flickered out as it passed his shield. Harry pushed the water outwards until it was surrounding him completely, like Hermione's wall of fire, and urged it towards her. With a wave of her hands, it dissolved into nothing, dropping onto the ground with a _splash_.

Harry glared at Hermione, and she smirked back, but her eyes were narrowed with frustration. Harry watched Hermione closely, and for a flicker of a second she glanced down at his wand. Nonverbally, he muttered the spell, and suddenly, giant _vines _were protuding from his _hands, _his _skin_. They shot out towards her, creeping sneakily, and even as she fired spells at them, it did nothing. As they wrapped around her, Hermione recognized the putrid scent of Venomous Tentacula.

Hermione breathed in deeply. She had never used this spell before, but she was pretty sure she could do it if she focused. Breathing evenly, she focused all her energy and thoughts onto warming her skin. She was trembling slightly from the focus, and suddenly, great flames burst from her body, and her _skin was on fire_, but she didn't feel any pain.

Harry, however, withdrew the vines with a yelp, and Hermione realized that anything they felt, he felt. They sucked back into his skin, and with an upper hand as Harry was still wincing, Hermione sent six spells in a row. He dodged the first four, but the fifth caught him off guard and he fell to the ground with a grunt. Hermione summoned his wand to her hand, and quite suddenly it was over.

The great hall was quieter than she had ever heard it, and as she looked around, she realized people faces were _awed_. Finally, they broke into applause, _everyone_, even the Slytherins, whose housemate had just been defeated, and the Ravenclaws, who were absolutely _wild _with shock and pride. Hermione helped Harry up, and he grinned weakly at her before she turned to walk back to the group of Ravenclaws, who were looking at her in shock.

Dumbledore strode onto the platform, and even his wrinkled face was openly shocked. "Well, that was certainly an...interesting duel. I think that will be all for this evening, so...until next Friday."

The students started to drift back to there common rooms, and as they moved to the Ravnclaw tower, Cindy turned to her, hazel eyes nearly popping out of her head. "Hermione..._where _did you learn to duel like that?"

"I..." Hermione glanced at all of them, who were looking at her. "Well, our parents were aurors, and they taught us a lot, and when we turned fifteen and they decided we were good enough, they started taking us on missions with them. We've...fought wars."

Cassie cover her mouth a little squeak came from it. "Blimey, Hermione! Wars! You've been helping fight the war and you're only...what, seventeen?"

Hermione nodded, blushing. Lionel was staring at her with his piercing grey eyes, an eyebrow arched as he looked at her. She blushed deeper and looked away from him, walking ahead.

Later that evening, Hermione crept down to the common room after many failed attempts at going to sleep. She realized only just too late that Lionel was sitting on the couch, staring into the fire. He turned and saw her, and with a simple jerk of his head, summoned her over.

She sat down tentatively next to him, looking at her hands in her lap. "Hermione, were you _really _in a war?"

Hermione hesitated. It was indeed difficult, she understood, for him to believe that she had been in a war. "Okay, well, this is going to sound difficult to believe," she said slowly, picking over her words carefully. "But it was kind of a different war, with a different dictator, not Grindelwald, a different man, with different battles in different places. Don't ask me why it isn't publisized, don't ask me questions, because I can't tell you, and my reasons are legitimate."

Surprisingly, he nodded understandingly. "Harry's not your brother, is he?"

Hermione jumped, looking at him with wide eyes. How had he known? She knew that she and Harry didn't look much alike, but lots of siblings didn't, so she wondered why he would have been suspicious.

"Erm...no." _What_? That hadn't been what was _supposed _to come out of her mouth? _How come she couldn't lie to him_? His grey eyes were sparkling with slight amusement as she struggled for words.

"That's alright. But...if you don't mind...why did you tell everyone you were?"

Hermione shrugged. "It was all part of the plan." _Stop talking! _"How did you know?"

Lionel glanced at her, a smallest of smiles on his lips. Smiling at her like that, the firelight washing over him, making his hair glisten and his eyes appear brighter, Hermione realized he was handsome. "I'm sure he's _like _your brother, the way you two act around each other, but you can tell by the way that he doesn't jump down every guys throat that talks to you, how he didn't go easy on you in that duel, how he isn't _totally_overprotective. I can tell you're just _very _good friends."

Hermione sighed, leaning back against the couch, staring into the flickering flames. "Harry's always been the brother I never had and always wanted. It was just most logical to tell everyone he was my brother because it was _so _easy to act like it. There was no pretending involved." She looked at him pleadingly, her eyes desperate. "_Please _don't tell anyone, I'd rather just have everyone think we are, and I can't-"

He put a finger to her lips, silencing. "Don't worry, Hermione. I won't say a word. You can trust me."

His words actually reassured Hermione. She didn't know why she had talked so much, said so much, but she didn't feel as worried as she felt she should have. She realized if there was _anyone _who she could trust, it was probably Lionel.

* * *

Over the weeks, Hermione was glad to find that the excitement over the duel had died down relatively quickly, although she had had to endure interrogation from most of the Slytherins she had met, all her housemates, Ron's Gryffindor friends, not to mention Slughorn, who had been _very_pleased with her performance, of course.

It had been two months since first arriving at 1944 Hogwarts, and Hermione was disturbed to hear from Harry that since the duel, Riddle had been paying _very _close attention to Harry. As he told her this, Hermione noticed that Riddle would watch her in classes, and when she passed him in the hall, his dark eyes would probe her's.

Also, Hermione found herself spending more and more time with Lionel, who seemed a loyal confidant, though she hadn't told him any of the big stuff, but he was _so _understanding and _such a good listener_ that Hermione found she was more comfortable with him than she had been in a _long_time with anyone besides Harry and Ron.

Of course, she didn't realize just _how _close they were until Harry, one day, while they were in the library, began teasing her.

"Okay, I'm going to go to dinner," Hermione said after hours of studying, gathering her books up and carefully putting them in her bag.

"Aw, going to see your little _boyfriend_?" Harry said slyly, giving her a strangely knowing look. Ron snickered into his hand, looking between Harry and Hermione with anticipation of the upcoming argument.

Hermione turned the darkest shade of red that Harry had ever seen her sport. "I-I...what are you talking about?" But Harry had a feeling that she knew _exactly _what and whom he was referring to.

"You know..._Lionel_." He said his name mockingly, and Hermione, is possible, turned redder. The book she was holding slipped out of her hand and onto the ground with a _thud_.

"Oh, Li, you're _so _sweet!" Ron said in his attempt at her higher voice, grinning cheekily, she threw one of her books at him.

"Oh, Li you're so _handsome_!" Harry egged her on, ducking as he, too, was victim to her rage.

"You...you two are just..._horrid_! Lionel and I are both aware that we are nothing more than close friends and that you two would imply _anything_else is just...just..._barbaric_! Ugh!" She threw her bag over her shoulder and stormed out of the library towards the great hall. She collapsed into her seat, huffing heavily, and her fury peaked just a little bit more when the boy they had only just been speaking of sat down beside her, rather closer than Jasper or Bruno would have sat, and he looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Something wrong?" He asked her, reaching across her to grab a steak, and Hermione shivered as his arms brushed hers, instantaneously blaming it on the cold draft that had just drifted through the room as the doors of the great hall opened. Harry strode in, waving to Ron as he moved to the Slytherin table, and Hermione's eyes followed him, narrowed.

"Oh, just my _dear _brother, being absolutely _wretched_," she spat scathingly, and Lionel followed her line of sight.

"Ah," he said, turning back to his plate to cut his steak. "And, pray tell, what did he do?"

Hermione suddenly turned bright pink and she looked at him, and then looked quickly away. He looked inquiringly at her.

"Why are you blushing?"

Hermione found herself answering him, and once again cursed her disability to say no to him. "He...implied...his...interest in the amout of time that...we spend together."

Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye as Lionel began to smirk, and then it broadened into a full-fledged mocking, taunting, absolutely_infuriating _grin. Hermione suddenly felt the violent urge to slap that look right off his face. "It isn't _funny!_" She snapped, burying her face in her arms, feeling it heat up again. He chuckled heartily, and Hermione suddenly felt his hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles there, and she froze.

"But, Mione, it _is _funny. You're just blushing about it because you're in denial."

Hermione looked up at him incredulously, her brown, doe eyes very wide, her lips slightly parted in wonder as she stared at the boy with furrowed brows. "Wha-what?"

Lionel raised his eyebrows. "You'll figure it out, little lassie," he said softly, and she stared at him, but he didn't look back at her the entire meal, though that smug little smirk was still on his lips, even when she left to go back to the library. As she roamed the aisles, a little absentmindedly, she suddenly rammed into a much taller figure and let out a small yelp. She started to fall backwards, and winced, ready for the impact of the ground, but it never came. She realized that there was a strong arm around her waist, and as she looked up, she realized that she was looking at the most handsome face she had _ever _seen.

He was fairly pale, like he had never even _heard _of the outdoors, but there was something seemingly graceful about his colorless appearance. His dark hair fell smoothly into his eyes, his dark, _incredibly dark_, eyes, Hermione had never seen eyes that dark...

"Are you alright, miss? I'm awfully sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." _He had an __**angels **__voice!_

Hermione tried to steady herself as he pulled her upright, trying very hard to remind herself that this was _Tom Riddle_, evil psychotic lunatic. But she had never actually _looked _at him before, never actual _seen _him until now; she was only ever staring into his eyes.

"Erm...yeah, sorry. I wasn't paying attention, either." Her breathing started to even out as he removed his arms from his waist, and she swallowed thickly.

"You're erm...you're Hermione Macmillan, aren't you?" he asked conversationally, leaning against the bookshelf, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ravenclaw? You're Harry's sister."

_Ok, Hermione, keep your cool. You don't know that he's insane, he's just a normal guy. _"Erm...yeah, yeah I am. Your...Tom Riddle. Headboy? Slughorn's pet." Hermione realized that he probably wouldn't like being referred to as 'pet', and she mentally prepared to be tortured into insanity, but was utterly _stunned _when he actually _chuckled_.

"That's right. I think he's taken too much of a liking to me. More than he should." Hermione sensed the dark undertone in his voice, and she resisted the urge to step away from him, but instead she hastily brushed her hair out of her eyes, glancing every-so-often out of the corner of her eyes at his wand arm. "That was _quite _the duel at the beginning of the year, Miss Macmillan. I've been wondering where you learned all of that. Did you come from Durmstrang?"

Hermione noticed that he managed to execute at least three points in each sentence, but still did it smoothly, and Hermione felt a twinge of admiration. "Erm...no...we were homeschooled. Are parents are...were...aurors, so dueling's kind of a specialty."

He nodded, gazing at her, his head cocked ever so slightly to the right, reminding Hermione, quite suddenly, of the future dark lord, and she barely retained a shudder.

"If you don't mind me asking, Miss Macmillan...how _did _your parents die?" _How _did he do that? How did he manage to say everything with the_perfect _amount of sincerity, the perfect expression, the perfect _everything_. It drove her _crazy_.

"Combat," she said curtly, looking away from him, her brows furrowing and staring down at the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice low, and Hermione looked sharply at him again as he set his elbow on the table and leaned closer to her. "My parents are dead too."

_Like you had nothing to do with that. Like you're actually __**sad **__about it. _"I'm sorry," she forced from her lips, even though really she wasn't sorry at all. She didn't feel people like him deserved _anything _that normally people had.

"Well, I'm sure your parents would be proud, seeing you duel like that," Tom said, blowing a piece of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "With power that intense, I think you would've done well in Slytherin."

"I'm not...so...so sure about that," Hermione said slowly, frowning and for once looking him directly in the eyes. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, silently observing the girl and waiting for her to continue. "Well...ambition, self-preservation, _cunning_," she sneered slightly. "Ambition, I suppose, is driven by a selfish sort of self-importance-"

"You want to _get _somewhere, don't you, Miss Macmillan? _Do _something with your life?" Tom asked calmly, and Hermione nodded, thinking, _Yes, but I __**highly **__doubt that what I want to do with my life is anywhere near what you want to do with yours. _"Ambition is merely pursuing goals."

"But sometimes ambitious people push away the people in their lives that matter the most because of their own goals," Hermione said, thinking of Percy, how he had pushed away his own _family_, all because he wanted to advance in the ministry. Tom arched a dark brow at her.

"What are people when you could have greatness? Power beyond all imagination?" Hermione saw the determined glint in his eyes, one that she recognized from Harry, the look in his eyes when he wanted something, to make a certain point or get something across. When he wanted to_achieve _somthing.

"But _that's _why I don't belong in Slytherin, _power_, self-preservation, putting yourself first. I could _never _do that. I'd die for Harry or Ron," she said softly. Tom cocked his head again and observed her, his dark eyes straying over her face, and Hermione suddenly felt very naked.

"You're very strange, Macmillan. You're almost as mushy as those Gryffindors. Perhaps it's _there _that you belong."

Hermione smirked. _You have no idea how much I belong there_.

But as he continued to simply watch her, Hermione felt the smirk slide off her face and she looked quickly away before meekly turning back to look up at him. His eyes, his whole face, was _completely _unreadable. There was not even the _slightest _flicker of emotion, and it _scared _her.

"Erm...I've got to go." She said quickly, and he did not stop her as she picked up her bag and hurried out of the room, just barely managing not to run.

She had never even _spoken_ to Tom Riddle until now, and suddenly he was having long, philosophical conversations with her? They competed_fiercely _in classes, and though they never addressed each other, she often caught him gazing at her with what looked like frustration.

She found Harry down the second floor corridor. "Hey, I just had a bit of a run in with Riddle."

Harry's gaze immediately locked on hers and he cast muffliato around them, and then addressed her in a low voice. "Did he try to hurt you?" he asked frantically. Hermione shook her head quickly.

"No, no. He was really polite, it just kind of shook me, that's all. I might have stumbled a couple times." She added meekly, and Harry groaned. He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly, and then looked at her with level eyes.

"Mione, you've _got to keep your cool_. Remember at Sluggie's first meeting, when you were taunting him, before you ever actually had to face him, because you _knew _he couldn't and wouldn't hurt you in front of all those people? Well you've got to pretend like he can't hurt you _now_, like he's a perfectly normal guy who _isn't _going to kill us in our sleep."

Hermione nodded slowly, her breathing slowing down. "Yeah...hey, I don't really want to go back up to the Ravenclaw tower." _With Lionel. _He would, she knew, _immediately _know that something was wrong, and he'd question her, and she wouldn't be able to lie to him.

"C'mon," Harry said, smiling gently and holding out his hand for her to take. She took it tentatively and he led her down the corridor and out onto the grand staircase. The met Ron in the entrance hall and Harry led them both downwards to the Dungeons. Only when Hermione realized where they were going did she start to resist.

"Harry!" she said in a shout-whisper. "I'm not going down there with all those little pompous evil gits!"

"You said you liked Abraxas, Niles and Edward!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation.

"Yeah, but I _just _told you that being around _you-know-who_ throws me off, so you take me to his _lair_?"

Harry chuckled at her frantic actions as simply started to pull her again, Ron following. "Relax, Mi. He won't even pay attention to you."

Hermione felt slightly affronted at the bluntness of his proclamation, but then she realized that she didn't _want _him to pay attention to her, no; not with those dark, dark eyes, and that soft-looking hair, and that, smooth, charming voice that just made you _want _to let down your guard-

"Aqua Snake." Harry said toward the portrait guarding the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and Hermione snickered.

"Not very creative with their passwords, are they?" Harry smirked and pulled her inside. Abraxas was lounging on the couch, twirling his wand between his fingers, looking very bored, and Hermione was stunned at how incredibly much he looked like his grandson at that moment. He glanced up and saw Harry, and then saw her, and his face broke into a clumsy grin.

"Hermione! What a pleasure to see you down here in our cozy abode!" He bid them over, but not before casting the redhead, clad in Gryffindor colors, a suspicious glance, alerting the other boys of their presence.

Hermione shivered as she sat down in an armchair next to a stack of books. "_Cozy _isn't exactly the word I would use."

Niles, sitting in the armchair beside her's, chuckled. "You'll get used to it. The cold air starts to not phase you-"

"Yes, yes, and then you adopt an arrogant smirk and start to swagger around instead of walking and soon you don't even feel bad hexing Gryffindors." Hermione raptured, flashing the boy a toothy grin when he blinked in surprise.

"She knows the ropes!" cackled a voice from Abraxas's couch, and Hermione looked over to see one of the Slytherin girls beaming at her. "Walburga Black, nice to meetcha!" Her voice was bright and warm, and Hermione was stunned with the difference between she and her future self.

"Hermione Macmillan, it's a pleasure," she said softly. She saw Harry flash the girl a grin before pulling her down onto another couch. Ron tentatively sat down beside them, looking very out of place with his fiery hair, conspicious freckles and red and gold robes.

"So, Quidditch tryouts next week," Abraxas said loudly, grinning and gesturing toward the announcent board, where a bulletin was posted. "You fly, Harry?" Harry nodded, grinning widely and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Seeker," Harry told him.

"Best damn seeker there ever was," Ron grinned, patting him on the back, and Abraxas chuckled.

"You play too, Hurst?"

"Yeah, keeper though." Abraxas nodded.

"And you, Hermione?" He addressed her, and both of the boys on either side of her snorted unbecomingly, and elbowed them in the ribs on either side.

"No, no I prefer to stay _on _the ground, _thank _youvery much." Hermione said curtly, remembering the only time she had ever been on a broomstick, which was _quite _unenjoyable. Abraxas snickered and her expense, and she resisted the urge to glare at him, remembering that _she_was on _his _turf.

"So lemme get this straight," Abraxas leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and arched an eyebrow, his grey eyes twinkling with what Hermione suspiciously thought was a mocking glint. "You get perfect grades, you spend all of your time studying, and you takes _vigorous_notes for not only yourself but your friends as well. What do you do for _fun_?"

Hermione blinked at him. "F-fun?"

Now all of the boys were chuckling, and Hermione reddenned, glaring at Ron and Harry, who had joined in on their guffawing. "Yes, Macmillan._Fun_. A concept that, however foreign to you, should be experienced by _all _fellow beings." Hermione couldn't help but giggle, partly at Abraxas's words and partly at the non-intentional pompous way that he said them. He frowned, and then suddenly grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "Something you and _Riddle _have in common I think. Maybe you two could _study _together sometime."

The boy's broke into another round of chuckles, though both Harry's and Ron's sounded more forced this time, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, honestly, just because I don't find flying around on an enchanted stick to throw balls through holes _fun_, doesn't mean that I don't know how to have _fun. _I just have a different idea of what _true _entertainment is." Abraxas raised his eyebrows, and she clarified. "Reading."

He stared at her, slightly slack jawed. "That's it!" He said finally, jumping to his feet. "I mean, I know you're a _Ravenclaw_, but for Salazar's sake,_reading_?" He reached down and pulled her to her feet, gesturing for the other boys to follow as he led her out of the portrait. "Now we're gonna show you what a _real _good time is, Macmillan." The broad, almost wild grin that was stretched out on his face slightly scared Hermione. She desperately hoped that their idea of a good time was not torturing innocent Muggle-borns.

She was surprised, however, when Abraxas stopped in front of the portrait to the kitchens. _Oh no! _She thought. _It's worse. They're going to torture the house-elves! _Hermione nearly yanked out of his grip when the rational side of her brain registered again, telling her not to raise suspicions. After all, from their perspective, all she knew was that they were innocent students in pursuit of an education. _She _didn't know that they were all being trained by the most evil man to ever walk the face of the earth to destroy people like _her_.

Abraxas pulled her inside and the other boys followed, sporting grins. Hermione relaxed when she saw Harry grinning, too, and she realized that whatever they were doing couldn't be _that _bad if Harry wasn't worried.

"Leeto!" Abraxas called in a sing-song voice, and an elf draped in rags came stumbling around the corner. His large green eyes reminded her a great deal of Dobby, and she felt a wave of homesickness overcome her, but she quickly swallowed back her tears.

"Yes, young Master Malfoy," the elf said in a trembling voice.

"Get us some Tlaythe, will ya?" The elf nodded quickly and scrambled off again, and Abraxas, upon seeing Hermione's confused face, grinned and started to explain. "Tlaythe is a fruit that grows in Southern Africa. Eaten raw it's really good, tastes kinda like peaches, but when you cook it..." Abraxas trailed off, scrunching up his nose, and the other boys had identical looks on their faces. "It emmits the foulest smell ever known to man."

"Then..._why _would we want it, exactly?" Hermione asked, still confused.

"It's not for us, you silly girl," Abraxas tutted, and Hermione saw a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We take the fruits up to the Gryffindor common room, and throw them in the fireplace. They burn out pretty quickly, so it's not as if the place will go down in blazes," he said reassuringly as he saw Hermione's horrified look. "But the stench won't go away for _weeks. _We're the only one that has access to them to, because the place that they grow in South Africa is a _Malfoy _plantation, owned only by the _Malfoy's_, and therefore, the house-elves will only go get the fruits when _I _ask them to." Abraxas grinned smugly at her, and Hermione couldn't help but be amused. Hermione wondered why Ron was going along with this when it was _his _common room they were defouling, but she realized that he probably just slept in the room of requirements for long periods of time.

By the time the elf had returned with the fruits, it had fallen dark. Harry retrieved his invisibility cloak, though Hermione had _begged _him not to reveal it in front of the Slytherins-_she _still didn't trust them-and it was fairly easy to sneak in behind one of the Gryffindors as the portrait swung closed. Abraxas stuck a hand out from under the cloak and threw one, two, three, four, five, six, _seven _fruits into the fire, and then ushered them out. Edward and Niles, who had waited outside because they could not all fit under the cloak, practically tackled them as they climbed out of the portrait hole and pulled off the cloak.

"Did you plant them? Did it work?"

"Of course it worked," Abraxas said haughtily. "When do my plans ever _not _work?"

They waited by the portrait, silently. By this time, it was after hours, so nearly _everyone _would be in their common room. Just moments later, Hermione heard a heavy set of footsteps storm down the stairs of the boys dormitory. Another set of footsteps trooped behind him. "What is that god-awful stench?" The second person asked, but the first person drowned him out with his louder voice that Hermione immediately recognized as Jack Weasley roar,

"MALFOY!"

Abraxas started laughing madly and Harry stuffed his invisibility cloak hastily into his pocket as Abraxas shouted, "RUN!" The portrait burst open, and furious Jack Weasley burst out, looking very comical, his face bright red, one large hand pinching his nose and the other clumsily waving a wand after them.

"I'LL KILL YA, MALFOY! I'LL KILL YA!" Hermione let out a burst of laughter as they continued down the grand staircase. She heard several pairs of footsteps behind them now, and Hermione realized that Jack must have gotten some reinforcements. She started to run harder but found it difficult, giggling uncontrollably as the four Slytherin boys ran beside her. They sprinted down the grand staircase at a frightening speed, leaping gaps and climbing over rails where the staircase had moved against their will.

"Split up!" Niles advised wisely. Abraxas darted into the fourth floor corridor, Niles following him, and Harry and Edward ducked into the third, leaving Hermione high-tailing it into the second floor corridor, breathing heavily as she sprinted down the hall. She glanced behind her, letting out a series of giggles again-

And ran straight into a hard, stiff body. She tumbled backward, but was once again caught in a tangle of strong, pale arms.

The _same _strong, pale arms.

She jumped back immediately and looked up at Tom Riddle. His eyebrows were raised, but other than that his face was expressionless, his dark eyes staring directly into hers, and Hermione suddenly feared; what if he was using Legilimency?

"You have a habit of not paying attention to where you're going," he said coldly, his mouth hardly moving, and Hermione realized his mood was_quite _different now from before. Now he gave off all the signs of authority, the Head Boy badge glistening on his robes as he stared down at her firmly.

"Care to tell me why you're out, _after _hours, running down a corridor, laughing like a madwoman?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, slightly offended. God, he was even more of a stiff-wad than her. Talk about a fun-spoilers. Her mind immediately went through the many lies that she could tell him, but her mouth didn't seem able to form the words when he was looking at her in that soul-reading way of his.

"Erm...I was on my way to my common room," she invented wildly, than inwardly cursed, realizing her mistake just a second too late.

" You were on your way to your common room?" Riddle repeated, and Hermione suddenly got the feeling that he was _enjoying _her discomfort.

_Of __**course **__he enjoys your discomfort, you stupid girl! _That bossy, know-it-all voice in her head snapped. _He enjoys torturing puppies. Cute ones. With the round eyes and waggily tails and big, fluffy ears._

Hermione suddenly became very sad as a sudden image of a tiny little spotted Jack-Russell Terrier writhing on the ground in pure agony, little wimpers emitting from it's small mouth as a snake-like man held a wand over it, cackling madly, with a sadistic grin on his papery pale face.

Hermione suddenly glared up at him, her eyes glinting with fury and malice, and he looked startled at her sudden change of attitude. Hermione took a deep breath. _Calm down...he's not torturing puppies yet._

Dismissing her strange behavior, Riddle continued. "I wasn't aware that the Ravenclaw common room was on the second floor. In fact, I was under the impression that it was on the fifth floor, behind the door that I watched you run past. Laughing. Like a madwoman."

There was that word again. _Madwoman. _Hermione didn't like being called that. It made her think too much of Bellatrix Lestrange, and then she remembered all the people that the evil woman hurt, and then she remembered that Harry shared a _dormitory _with this evil woman's father, and it made her want to do something drastic. _No_. She thought quickly. _If you did something to Cygnus, then Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda wouldn't be born, and that means that __**Tonks**__wouldn't be born._

There, she thought. Way to be reasonable. Way to not freak out.

She looked back up at Riddle, who was now staring at her with a completely confused look on his face, and Hermione wondered vaguely if she was losing her mind. "Erm...oh. My bad...I'll just go back in that direction." She turned her back to Riddle, but he reached forward and snatched her wrist, spinning her back round to face him.

"Nice try, Macmillan. Have another go."

Hermione chewed her lip. "Erm...it's critical, really. Erm...Harry's bleeding to death, and I was trying to find help."

Tom smirked, and Hermione nearly reached over and wrapped her hands around his pale throat. "And you were laughing about your brother bleeding to death?" Hermione cursed aloud this time, and Riddle's smirk grew. "Come on, Macmillan. One more go, that's _all _I'm giving you. Try the truth this time."

Hermione barely restrained rolling her eyes as she glared back up at him. She couldn't very well tell him that they were out _pranking. _Hermione had the impression that he wasn't the type that would find that amusing. ."Abraxas, Edward, Niles, Harry and I were all playing tag, and I got_awfully _hungry, so I was going to go down to the kitchens to get something to eat. I missed dinner, you see."

Tom's brows traveled further up his face until they disappeared behind the locks of hair that swept across his forehead...rather soft looking hair...Hermione wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through...

She froze, blinking. _No_.

To her surprise, a charming smile appeared on Tom's face. "Oh, well, in that case, let me escort you to the kitchens." Hermione's jaw nearly dropped. He must have had a motive...surely, there was a motive..._what was his motive_?

"Erm...actually, I'm not really all that hungry anymore, so I think I'll just hit the sack," Hermione said quickly, and was disgruntled when Riddle looked amused.

"Nonsense. Can't have the young lady going hungry, now can we?" He held out his arm for her, and Hermione glanced at it unsurely. "Come, I insist, Miss Macmillan." Hermione, grunting at being ordered around like a lapdog, reluctantly took his arm and allowed him to lead her down to the kitchens. He pulled her through the portrait that guarded it and pulled out a chair for her. When she was seated, he took the seat on the opposite end of the table, staring her down, and Hermione swallowed thickly.

"Leeto?" Hermione called softly, feeling under scrutiny as Tom stared unabashedly at her. The little elf appeared in front of her.

"Mistress Hermione. Master Malfoy is not with you this time? Is he hurted?"

Hermione giggled softly. "No, no, he's fine." _But he probably won't be if Jack gets a hold of him. _"Erm...could you bring me some ice cream, please, Leeto?"

The little elf nodded his head, which almost seemed too large for his head. "Of course, Mistress Hermione. Leeto will be right back!" Leeto turned to Tom. "Does Master Riddle want anything to eat?" Raising an eyebrow, which Hermione had the impression was cynical, he smirked.

"Just a butterbeer." The lack of kindness in his words made Hermione cringe, and as the elf disappeared again, she turned to him, eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, to find that he was still looking at her. "You know," he said slowly. "I wonder what Mr. Macmillan would say if he saw you down here with me, _alone_." His emphasis on the last word made Hermione shudder. "After all, he seems strangely protective when it comes to you being around me." He cocked his head, studying her. "I wonder why that is?"

"Well, I guess he just doesn't know you as well as he knows the other boys, so, as a survival instinct, he doesn't trust you." That was not_entirely _true. At some points Hermione thought Harry exerted a little _too _much trust in the other boys, especially when he had admitted that several times they had disappeared in the night, no doubt attending Death Eater meetings. But all the same, Harry saw nothing of their hostilities when he was around them, so he tried not to think on it too much, but she wondered how they would treat them if they knew that neither of them were Purebloods.

"But he seemed to attach to Abraxas rather quickly. It seems strange, doesn't it, that after over two months he still doesn't seem to be overly fond of me. It's almost as if...he knows something he shouldn't." He said the last part so softly, but when she caught it, her face visibly paled, and it was all she could do to keep her breathing quiet. The way Riddle was looking at her, with those all-knowing eyes made her suddenly more afraid of him than ever before. Leeto returned with her ice cream and Riddle's butterbeer and just as quickly disappeared. Hermione felt her fear escalate; but what, it wasn't like a _house-elf _could have saved her from _Riddle_.

"Listen, Riddle, our parents were aurors. They always taught us _constant vigilance_." Hermione's eyes dimmed with sadness as she thought of Mad-Eye Moody. "I don't _know _how much he knows about you, though most likely very little-you seem not to reveal much to anybody-but I can assure you that he's merely gauging your actions and reactions, to see if you're worthy of trust. God knows it took him long enough to trust Ron, seeing as they're _very _different people."

Tom was still looking at her in that unnerving way, and, disgruntled, Hermione set down her spoon, pushing her ice cream away from her and standing up shakily. "I need to go." In a split second, Riddle was standing in front of her, and if Hermione didn't know any better, she'd think he'd apparated. He stood _so _close to her, though, his face inches from her, that long, dangerous wand prodding none-too-gently into her chest. "Why are you afraid of me?" He asked in a his soft, poison voice.

"Erm...because you're jabbing a wand at me." Hermione said sharply, and she winced as she dug it further into her skin. She remembered the incident between Scrimgeor and Harry, when he had come to give them the items from Dumbledore's will, and she silently prayed that _he _wouldn't burn a hole in _her _shirt. Her slightly sarcastic voice, though, she could tell, made his anger peak just a little bit more as his normally unreadable eyes flashed with anger.

"You know very well what I meant, _Macmillan._ What's so _incredibly _intimidating about someone like me?"

God, didn't he have an _ounce _of niceness in him. For _once _in his life couldn't he just chill out and drink his butterbeer, maybe have a nice conversation with her about Quidditch, or Charms, or their favorite wizard bands. But _no_, it always had to be about power, about achievement, about _gaining _something with him. Why couldn't even ever just _relax_?

"That's it, Riddle!" Hermione snapped finally, bringing her hand down knocking his wand out of his hand. His eyes flashed in surprise and they only widened as her hands came up to his chest and pushed him firmly away, her eyes narrowed so thin that it was hard to believe she could see out of them. She had now withdrawn her wand and was pointing it between his eyes. "I'm _sick _of your interrogation, sick of you thinking you can just corner me and threaten me with your little power trips and all your absolute _crap_. Back off! We were all just trying to have a good time, and then you have to come in and play with the situation, take advantage of it, _no_! Seriously, Riddle, when are you going to learn that it _isn't all about you_!" With a final _hmph_ Hermione spun on her heel and marched off, the portrait slamming shut behind her with a resounding _thud_. As Riddle stared after her, he wondered for the first time if house qualities were overevaluated.

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**A/N: Um...soo...ya like? Hope ya did :D I do own the fruit Tlaythe (LAY-TH)-i just made that baby up, haha :) I also made up the spell engorcendio and a couple other ones in there that you recognize. Peace out till the next chappie :D**

**Love you :D xoxoxoxoxo**


	5. When Everything Becomes Harder

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**A/N: OKAY OMGOMGOMG! Guys I think this is my best chappie ever I'm sooooo in love with it lolz! I really hope you guys enjoy it too! I'm not gonna list all the reviewers cause there were lots and I'm a bad person :( But just know that wherever you are I love you and it means soooo much to me that you review and I'll try and respond as much as I can and thanks so much for the special pointers you guys put out! :D**

**Okay, so stuff reeaaallly goes down here and it gets reeeaaaallly exciting so buckle up! Haha jk wow Imma loser :)**

**Anyways, Enjoy! :D Review pleease :):):)**

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Chapter Five-The Time At Which Everything Becomes Harder

It wasn't until a month later that Jack Weasley got his revenge upon the now-unsuspecting Slytherins. The redhead boy had somehow managed to enchant the portrait guarding the Slytherin common room to the let him in, and inside he had wreaked utter havoc. The beds and armchairs were overturned, and the ashes from the fireplace were strewn about the room. The boy had also managed to drill a hole just big enough in the ceiling that a steady flow of lake water streamed into the common room at all times, making for an uncomfortably wet situation for those wishing to relax in their quarters. Hermione wondered, as she watched the two boys glaring at each other from across the hall at dueling club, whether or not the feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin would ever completely cease.

Hermione feared slightly for both of their safeties as they dueled vehemently on the platform, throwing hexes that surely couldn't be considered safe even at the most wildest of the professors standards. But still students and professors alike watched in awe as the two fairly competentent wizards dueled. Hermione was honestly surprised, _stunned _even, that Abraxas had managed to keep up with Jack for this long. She had known he was alright, but she was by no means aware that he was _this _capable. Although, she admitted to herself, he _was _death eater, so he had to have had a decent amount of training.

In the end though, Jack blasted him into a wall, and then threw him an ugly sneer and marched off the stage, high-fiving Donovan Thomas as he passed him. Edward and Niles helped Abraxas up, sending glares at Jack's back, and Hermione bit her lip. She had thought this originally started as a playful battle, but it was slowly escalating into something more.

"That was really some duel," Cassie said as they made their way up their common room. "I hope Abraxas isn't _too _beat up."

Bruno stopped in his tracks, glaring at the girl, who stopped as well. "Cassie, he's a _Slytherin. _You can't _seriously _be worried about him!" Cassie blushed and Bruno continued, falling into stride with her, not seeming to notice how uncomfortable she looked. "I mean, _come on_, it's not as though you _fancy _him or anything."

The boys started to chuckle and Cindy gave Cassie a knowing look, who promptly looked away, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, Cassie," Cindy said, with a sickly mocking undertone in her voice. "It's not as though you _fancy _him or anything." Hermione's lips turned up the slightest fraction as Cassie's head dipped and her long curls fell in front of her face.

"Of course," Cassie mumbled. "He _is _a _Slytherin_, after all."

That night, as Hermione lay in bed, Hermione pondered how not so different this era was from her own. Girls still treated boys with the same unsure but altogether naive attitude that they did in her time. Hermione remembered fondly how Ginny had acted around Harry before, never looking him in the eye and always running out of the room whenever she saw him. Hermione suddenly felt a rush of longing overcome and she all-too-suddenly missed her only true girl friend she'd ever had. Sobs welled up in her throat and burst out, and she buried her face in her pillow, her body wracking with a sudden misery that was uncontainable.

"Hermione?" The light went on and Hermione saw three faces surrounding her bed. She looked up at them with tear-stained cheeks, and tried to speak, but her voice cracked and she swallowed quickly. It seemed, however, that no words were needed, because Cindy swooped forward, wrapping Hermione up in her arms, while Samantha's hand rubbed soothing circles on her back, and Cassie's gentle fingers stroked her hair. And Hermione felt a rush of gratitude for the three girls who she had given no reason to trust her, and yet gave her _everything_.

Just as Hermione was going to voice her gratitude, a _crack _split through the night air, and the four of them jumped. Lydia was already out of her bed, wand drawn, with a finger to her lips. Five pairs of eyes darted towards the window, and they all grouped around it, peering into the night to see what had caused the disturbance.

As her eyes adjusted, Hermione counted ten, twenty-five, _forty _men trooping across the grounds, and in the distance, standing in front of the entrance hall, she saw one lone figure standing, as if waiting for them.

There was suddenly a commotion outside of the common room, and Hermione heard the alarm go up; "_Intruders! Intruders on the grounds! It's him!"_

Ghastly, bloody images clouded Hermione's mind as she and the other three girls raced down the steps and out of the common room, the boys joining them shortly. Images of tall, snake-like men with slit-like noses and cruel, red eyes.

"_It's Grindelwald!_"

Hermione blinked. Of course it wasn't a snake-man, with red eyes and papery, pale skin. This was a whole different villain, with brand new tactics and brand new strategies. Hermione didn't know how to deal with a villain like Grindelwald. She barely knew how to deal with a villain like Voldemort.

"It sounds like there's fighting going on down there!" Lionel shouted over the commotion, and Hermione's head swiveled toward his. There's eyes met in brief but unwavering understanding. With a soft smile, he reached his hand out to her and she took it, allowing him to pull her nearer to him. "We've got to go help."

Without another word, the nine Ravenclaws charged down the steps of the grand staircase, running faster than any of them had in their lives; but Hermione's hand never left Lionel's, and that sure, trusting feeling never vacated her.

The entrance hall was in chaos; the dark-cloaked men were fighting students, teachers were attempting to keep calm, first years were curled up in corners, sobbing, and, with a lurch of horror, Hermione realized, _students _were fighting _each other_.

The bunch was led by Jack, who was dueling fiercely with a sixth year Slytherin, whose face was curled into an ugly, frustrated sneer. It was obvious that he had not entered this duel by choice. Hermione realized quite suddenly that though Jack was a Gryffindor, the kind-hearted Weasley blood wasn't always his most domineering characteristic.

"Where's your ring-leader, Malfoy, Slytherin scum?" he roared over the confusion. "Gone to hide away in a broom cupboard? Coward wouldn't want to be in danger, now would he?"

Whether or not the Slytherin knew Abraxas personally or not, Hermione did not know, but she could tell his anger had peaked then as his wand movements became more violent and his face transformed into an expression of unbridled loathing. Hermione raised her wand and blasted aside a dark cloaked figure who had had his wand pointed toward the Slytherin student, who surely wouldn't have noticed...

She and Lionel continued to sprint through the crowd, taking out as many of Grindelwald's followers as they could. Hermione, at one point, saw Dumbledore dueling, and was stunned at the utter _hatred _that his face held as he dueled four dark wizards at once, and Hermione was abruptly reminded of Rita Skeeter's book on Dumbledore's dark past...

At some point in the fighting, Hermione was not sure if it had been a minute or an hour, the ministry wizards started to appear, first five, then ten, then twenty. The professionally-trained aurors made Hermione suddenly feel very safe. They all had a Mad-Eye Moody look to them, and Hermione wondered if all aurors back then were like that.

The aurors had finally gotten everything under control to where there was only one follower left; the rest had either fled or been killed, and they bound him and took him down the dungeons for interrogation. All of the students were sent into the great hall, where the tables were pushed up against the walls and they were mingling fearfully with friends in tight-knit groups.

Hermione pushed past the many clumps of students, however, unconcerned with them. She was only looking for a head of red hair, or a bespectacled face.

"Harry!" she gasped finally, as she found Harry and Ron standing together, in the corner of the room, both of their faces ashen. Hermione didn't understand their expressions; sure, it had shaken them all up, but the three of them had been through worse. "Are you alright Harry?"

Harry turned to her numbly, his green eyes like empty shells. "Someone must have let them in, Hermione."

"Yes, I understand that Harry," she said patiently. "But-"

"Someone must have let them in, Hermione, and I can't find Abraxas." Hermione froze, eyes widened the point of shattering, and then she slowly looked around the great hall, heart seeming to be frozen in place. But Harry was right; she couldn't see Abraxas, or Niles, or Edward...in fact, she didn't see Riddle anywhere either. Spotting Dumbledore talking with Dippet, she gestured to the other two and moved closer to the pair, discreetly standing a couple feet away, ear cocked in their direction.

"...a powerful spell, Albus. Nearly impossible to be broken from the outside and almost as difficult from the inside. But not _as _difficult-"

"I refuse to believe that one of my students would go to the aid of Gellert Grindelwald!" Dumbledore said sharply, sounding more agitated than Hermione had ever heard him. She looked back at the other two, who were looking at her with wide, trusting eyes, and Hermione realized that they were waiting for her to do something.

Before she could so much as speak, however, the doors of the Great Hall burst open and in strode three tall, burly ministry officials, dragging with them three incredibly familiar people. Hermione's eyes widened as they dropped them in front of Dippet and Dumbledore.

"These are yours?" One of them said gruffly. Dippet nodded curtly, glancing down at the three of them, but Dumbledore frowned, as if unwilling to believe the evidence that had presented itself in front of him. "Found 'em outside in the forbidden forest. I believe these are your culprits, headmaster."

"You cannot assume that they are guilty immediately," Dumbledore started, and Hermione was once again awed at his unwavering faith in everyone and everything.

"They were the only ones outside, Dumbledore," the man said sharply, almost disrespectfully, and Hermione remembered how much the ministry and Dumbledore didn't get along, and realized that some things would never change. "Not to mention these boys were in restricted territory, with no excuses for being there. There were a few more, but they ran off."

No sooner had he spoken that the door burst open again, but Hermione was surprised to see not another ministry official, but Tom Riddle himself easily striding into the room, holding a younger Slytherin by the collar.

"Headmaster," the dark haired boy said, inclining his head in the direction of the shorter man. "I found another one by the forbidden forest."

"What were you doing out there, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, and Hermione didn't know whether to be disturbed or reassured that she heard suspicion in his voice. Hermione was surprised, however, when a look of shame overtook Tom's face and he dipped his head, a dark blush spreading itself across his hollow cheeks.

"Forgive me professor, headmaster. As head boy, you know I've only ever had the mind to protect our students. So when I heard there was an intruder, I foolishly thought I should go and try to catch the culprit who let them in. Naturally, I figured they'd flee for the forest, so I set out after him, thinking impudently that I'd save the day and become the hero, but instead I found a rather larger group than I expected."

Hermione's jaw went slack at the extent of his acting abilities, and she saw Harry and Ron in similar positions. There was not a trace of amusement or mock on his face, but Hermione could've sworn she saw the tiniest glimmer of self-satisfaction in his dark eyes.

"Now, now, dear boy, only trying to fulfill your duties! No harm done!" Dippet strode forward and clapped a hand on Tom's shoulder. "I daresay you were incredibly brave, Tom! Although I'm sure it pains you to see that your classmates were the ones who caused all the trouble."

Tom sighed heavily. "It pains me deeply. Over the years we developed such a close relationship-I thought I knew them so well." Tom sighed as he looked down at Abraxas pityingly, knudging his arm with his foot. "It appears I do not." Hermione saw a flicker of annoyance cross Abraxas's face.

"I suppose we shall take them down to be interrogated," Dippet sighed heavily, looking thoroughly displeased with the work that fell upon his shoulders to do. "Although seeing as they can break through spells as Dumbledore's protective encasement, I daresay any normal security we put them under shall not do. I suppose we shall take their wands and call for some guards to watch them."

"But you don't even know they did it!" Hermione snapped, infuriated with the injustice of the system and reluctant to believe that Abraxas could ever be so cruel. One of the ministry men turned and looked at her with a sneer.

"I'd advise you to hold your tongue. Not many care to hear you're opinion, woman."

Hermione's jaw dropped as the man turned and he and his two colleagues dragged Abraxas, Edward and Niles out of the room. Her hand flew to her wand but Harry stopped her. "No! It's not worth it!" Her blazing eyes turned to him, and Ron and he both took a step back. "We can't worry about that now, Hermione!" Harry said quickly. "We've got to go and find a way to prove their innocence."

Hermione's fury towards Harry evaporated and she looked at him with hope in her eyes. "You don't think they did it?"

"I know they didn't," Harry said grimly. "They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." At Hermione's quizzical glance he explained. "It's the third Tuesday." When Hermione's brows drew together in confusion, he repeated it. Suddenly she understood. The third Tuesday of each month; the death eater meetings. _Of course_.

Harry pulled out his cloak and after glancing around to make sure no one was looking, the three of them slipped under it and made their way down to the dungeons. "Which room are they in?" Hermione breathed. But her question was almost immediately answered as they came to a door at the end of the hall with three guards in front of it. Smirking, Hermione raised her wand and muttered, "_Oxigenous_." Immediately, their hands flew to their throats and they writhed momentarily on the floor, seemingly gasping for breath, before laying still.

"Hermione!" Ron said in a loud whisper, while Harry stared at her in horror. "What is that? A dark spell? You killed them!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she concentrated on the door, testing out several different unlocking spells. "I didn't kill them, you idiots. Just knocked them out."

She finally found the right one and pushed the door open to find Abraxas, Niles and Edward chained to the walls. What surprised her even more was that there were large gashes on their arms, chests, and backs. Hermione felt bile well up in her throat. Those bastards had _whipped _them? Like _dogs_?

Hermione rushed forward, throwing herself onto her knees in front of them. "Oh my goodness! You three look awful!"

Edward attempted a weak smile, but Abraxas looked at her in awe. Niles, however, was suspicious. "What? You aren't afraid to be in here alone with a bunch of _Grindelwald _supporters?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at just how much he sounded like Ron. "No, I'm much more concerned with the lot of you being _Voldemort_supporters."

Their reactions were almost comical; Niles eyes popped and jaw dropped simutaneously, Edward slumped forward and Abraxas's head, which had been resting on his hand, slipped off and hit the concrete floor with a _crunch_.

"You-wha'-how do you-"

"I'd advise you to tell us the entire truth and ask us no questions, seeing as your future, whether or not you're getting chucked into Azkaban, lies in our hands at the moment," Ron said gruffly. Edward's eyes widened and a sweat broke out on his forward.

"Surely they wouldn't throw us into Azkaban for something like this? Even if we didn't do it, it's not like we _killed _somebody."

Hermione's eyes were locked firmly on a spot above Edward's shoulder as she addressed him, her mouth set in a grim smile. "Anyone caught associating with Grindelwald is sentenced to imprisonment and possible death. I don't see how you could possibly prove your innocence." Hermione looked sharply at them, deciding instantaneously to take full advantage of the situation. "If you didn't let Grindelwald in, what _were _you three doing out there?"

The three of them shared wary glances, but after a defeated sigh, it was Abraxas who spoke. "Well, you already know about..." He took a shallow breath, swallowing thickly. "V-_Voldemort_, however you do, I won't ask, but every month we have meetings, where our leader Voldemort trains us to for his...means."

"Voldemort's Riddle, isn't he?" Hermione asked quickly. Abraxas made no move to answer; he didn't need to. Hermione sighed frustratedly. She leapt to her feet and began pacing about the room, her hands folded behind her back. "But we can't exactly _tell _them you were out in the forest having meetings under a raving lunatic involving the dark arts-"

"How did you know it involved the dark arts?" Niles asked sharply, and Hermione turned on him, her brown eyes narrowed, seeming darker than usual.

"I _told _you not to question me."

Before Niles could reply, the door burst open, and the same ministry officials trooped in. "Here's the ones that knocked the guards out!" One of them barked. Hermione felt fear dance down her spine, but she relaxed when she saw Dumbledore beside them, and it was he that she addressed.

"Professor, I'm sorry. We came in here to speak with them; we need to prove their innocence."

Dumbledore nodded gracefully, inclining his head. "Very well. You may observe the interrogation, please follow me."

Dumbledore then led the six of them (the three boys had been re-clothed and Hermione had tended to their wounds as best she could) to the great hall, which was empty save for a few chairs. The ministry wizards pushed the three boys into the middle of the room and then the tallest, most scarred one stood in front of them, his twisted face wearing and ugly sneer. Harry, Ron and Hermione sunk into three chairs against the walls, Hermione watching with a vindictive protectiveness as she saw Abraxas's face contort with fear, and he looked _so young _at that moment.

"Abraxas Brutus Malfoy, seventh year, Slytherin. You have been accused of alliance with Gellert E. Grindelwald, dark wizard of Germany. Do you deny these terms?"

Abraxas swallowed thickly and then looked directly up at the man. "Yes, sir."

"And what proof have you to support your case?"

At this Abraxas stayed silent and the ministry wizard's eyes sparkled in triumph. He went through the same process with Niles and Edward, and by then Hermione's blood was boiling. She _really _didn't like these ministry wizards.

"If none of you have any proof that will support your case-"

"Please, sir!" Hermione suddenly found herself on her feet and all eyes in the room were on her. She swallowed, her mouth drying up, and then spoke, slowly, each word seeming to way a thousand tons. "We...I know they aren't guilty. Let us prove it! We'll find the person that did it-track them down!"

The ministry wizard scoffed condescendingly. Hermione spotted a name tag on his shirt. _Travers_. Any relation to the 1990's death eater, she wondered. "You honestly think you and a rag-tag gang of teenagers are capable of tracking down a person competent enough to break Albus Dumbledore's wards. Assuming, as you say, that it wasn't these boys, of course." He sneered at her, and Hermione once again struggled to contain her temper.

"Please, give us...a month." Travers arched an eyebrow.

"Two weeks."

"Three."

The man tilted his head back slightly, looking down his nose at her. The man behind Abraxas, who wore a clean-cut Muggle suit and large, thick-rimmed glasses peered at her with cold, grey eyes. "Eighteen days."

Hermione bit her lip, knowing that this was the best that they were going to get. She didn't dare glance at Ron or Harry, whose impulsiveness would drive them to bargain for more time, which, she could tell, Travers would be unwilling to give. So, with a sharp, decisive nod, she looked up at the man.

"Eighteen days."

He reached forward, his large hand hovering in the air between them like a safety zone between two battlefields. "And should you not find and bring back the culprit, _alive _for interrogation, you three will have to suffer the same fate as your friends." Hesitating, Hermione nodded and lifted her own hand, grasping the man's quickly. His lips pulled up in a smirk, and she barely retained a shudder.

"I'm coming." The three of them spun to see a figure emerge from the shadows that Hermione had not first seem upon entering the room.

"No!" she said quickly, unable to hold her tongue. He raised his eyebrows at her, but then turned to address the Headmaster and Dumbledore.

"As head boy, it is my duty to protect the students, and I feel obliged to help find the man who endangered our school's safety. I'm sure our head girl can handle my duties for a few weeks."

Dippet bobbed his head in agreement. "Yes, yes, of course! Brilliant idea, Tom! Of course they could use you! You're brilliant of course!" Dumbledore looked a little more reluctant, but he turned away with out objection. Hermione nearly felt like crying. They couldn't do anything, say anything, _plan _anything with the pompous, self-absorbed _git _there.

But as she looked at Abraxas, whose face was a mixture of pity and gratitude, she knew that they had to go, whatever the circumstances.

So that evening, Hermione hurriedly threw clothes into her trunk, making mental lists of all the necessary supplies they would need. The ministry had supplied a tent similar to the one they used at the Quidditch World Cup, but that had been all they supplied. Hermione wondered why they weren't sending professionals to do the job, but she realized that to the ever-sadistic Travers, having a reason to punish more people the necessary was appealing to him.

Hermione didn't hear the door open as she vigorously stuffed her trunk with supplies, so she jumped when a voice spoke. "So, you're off to catch the bad guy, eh?" She spun around to see Lionel. All the other girls were downstairs, and she had no idea how he got up there, but Hermione felt herself not caring at that moment.

The ministry guards had told them not to confide into anyone else about their mission, but as Lionel looked at her with the probing eyes, she knew that she'd die before she lied to him. "Yeah. Have to prove our Slytherin buddies innocence." At this Lionel's eyes hardened, and she moved forward quickly, crossing the room in a few strides and taking his hands in hers. "I know they seem bad, but they're actually very nice people." But the statement contradicted itself as Hermione thought about the whole reason they were in this mess; if Abraxas and the boys hadn't been out playing evil psychotic evil-doers with Tommy-boy then they wouldn't have been near the scene of the crime.

"Yeah, well, all the same..." He took a step closer, so that her nose was pressed against his chest and she breathed in his rich scent. "You're gonna be out there for _eighteen days _with Riddle. Watch your back."

Hermione nodded. He probably already knew that she didn't need to be warned away from the Riddle, but the fact that he did anyway warmed her heart, and just as he was about to turn and leave her dormitory, she put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her again, standing on her toes and lightly pressing her lips against his. He kissed her back softly, gently, and Hermione realized it was perfect. As she pulled away she smiled against his lips and whispered, "I think I get it now...what Harry meant."

Without another word she withdrew her wand and levitated her trunk out of the dorm and down the stairs, her following, briefly squeezing Lionel's hand as she passed him. Downstairs in the common room the rest of the Ravenclaws were waiting, most of the girls with teary eyes.

"Oh, Hermione!" Cassie sprung forward, sobbing, and she threw her arms around Hermione, her flyaway hair surrounding both of them. "We're going to miss you _so _much." The girl sniffled as she drew back, wiping her face. "Y-you just lemme know if you _ever _need anything, Hermione. Back up, reinforcements, whatever. I know its only eighteen days, but a girl can only survive so long without someone to have her back, and...well-we have yours." Hermione smiled sadly and embraced Cassie again, and then moving to hug each of them in turn. Hermione noted that Lydia wasn't there; she wasn't very surprised, she figured the girl wouldn't come to see her off, but she hadn't been in the dormitory either.

When they were done saying their goodbyes, Hermione felt a hand on her back and she looked up to see Lionel, who didn't not meet her eyes. "I'll escort you down to the great hall." So he led her out of the portrait and down the staircase. Neither of them spoke, but ever-so-often he'd lean down and kiss her, spontaneously, and it made Hermione's skin tingle like it was on fire.

Harry and Ron were waiting with Dippet, Dumbledore, Slughorn, and the ministry officials. Abraxas, Niles, and Edward were sitting in three chairs next to another ministry employee and Tom was leaning against Abraxas's chair, though by Abraxas's stiff, tensed expression Hermione could wager a guess that he didn't want him anywhere near them.

"Have everything?" Harry asked nonchalantly, but Hermione saw the amused glint in his eyes as they flickered over she and Lionel's clasped hands and Hermione got the feeling that she would not hear the end of it.

"Yes. Everything." At her confirmation, Harry, Ron and Riddle set their trunks in front of her, and with a wave of her wand, they were all roughly the size of a nickel. Hermione withdrew her knapsack which she had placed an undetectable extension charm on and cast the trunks inside, throwing the bag over her shoulder.

Travers stepped forward, a look of seriousness on his face. "Very well. The four of you will be escorted to the gates, and from there, you may begin your trek. Do not expect any help from the ministry. You have brought this upon yourselves. Until proven otherwise, you are criminal accomplices in search of evidence."

Hermione felt that the way he said it made them sound so _sinister. _They were only trying to help their innocent friends be freed. And if anyone there was a criminal, it was _Riddle_, the one person that _nobody_-save for Dumbledore and themselves -suspected.

The night air was bitter as they moved silently and briskly across the grounds, none of them speaking. It was only when they reached the gate did Hermione stop them. She turned to Travers and said in her no-nonsense voice. "I think we've got it from here, sir."

He looked reluctant to leave, but Dumbledore immediately agreed, so within a few moments, the four teenagers were left alone. With a quizzical look from Harry and Ron, Hermione led the boys into the forbidden forest, Ron protesting heavily and Riddle following obediently, albeit a little suspiciously.

"Mione!" Ron whined. "Where are we going? There's spiders in here! You know I _hate _spiders!" Hermione cringed as he said that, knowing that everything they said from here on out, Riddle would hold against them, and more than anything, Hermione didn't want him to be able to have their _weaknesses _dangling above their heads.

"You should've learned by now, Ron," Harry said in a low voice, and Hermione noted that he sounded a little subdued. "Listen and obey. The two keys to surviving with her."

A wry smirk twisted on her lips as she led them deeper still. Her footsteps slowed as they reached the darkest part of the forest, where the trees grew thick, and she felt it. She stopped abruptly and the other boys nearly crashed into her. She turned and her eyes clashed with Tom Riddle's unmistakeably dark ones, and she had her confirmation; it was here.

"Do you feel it?" she muttered to Harry, for his brows were drawn together and his face had a look of utmost concentration. Wordlessly, he nodded and pursed his lips.

"It's...it's like a tingly feeling. Like...like I can actually _feel _the magic."

Hermione nodded, feeling the exact same thing. "Yes, its here." She slowly walked along the edge of the forest, her hand at the level of her eyes, as if running her fingers along some invisible surface. The forest spread miles and miles upon here, but there was something very strange about the boundary line between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Something like...

"_Finite Incantem_." Suddenly, Hermione's hand was no longer touching mid-air, but was pressed flat against a tall, stone wall. Hermione felt excitement bubble up in the pit of her stomach as she peered into the darkness and saw that the wall went on for many miles, deep into the forest, past her line of sight.

"I don't understand," Ron mumbled. "If there's a wall there, how'd they get through?"

Hermione frowned. "I...I'm not sure, but..."

"Haven't you ever read about?" came Tom Riddle's low voice from the darkness, and the three of them turned to look at him; Hermione had almost forgotten he was there.

"Read about what, Riddle?"

"The medallion of Slytherin. You see, back in the founder's time, the master's of the castle were notified any time anyone entered or exited the gates of Hogwarts. So Salazar wanted to find a way to get in and out without them knowing he was leaving so that they wouldn't question him, but he didn't want anyone following him. He created the medallion of Slytherin, which he put some of his own blood into. The wall has existed for thousands of years to keep Muggles from stumbling upon Hogwarts, but Slytherin found a way around that. The magic he put within the medallion was complex enough to outsmart the wall; it allowed him to pass through it whenever he wore the medallion, but only one could enter, therefore, no one could follow."

Hermione was once again startled with Riddle's extensive knowledge on the subject, but realized that he had probably done more research on his ancestor than modern historians. Her frown deepened, however, when she realized that it didn't _completely _explain the situation. "But how did _forty _men get in if only one man can get in at a time?"

Tom rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Well obviously once the leader was inside he broke the protection charms from the inner gates. Like Dumbledore said; its easier done from the inside."

"But how come the professors don't know about the medallion?" Harry asked, not looking at Riddle.

Riddle stiffened, his facial expression completely disappearing until he resembled a marble statue before he spoke. "I have extensive access to more exclusive readings." Harry and Hermione looked at each other, knowing that that was the best answer they were going to get.

"So...we have to find the medallion, and the one with the medallion will be our guy?" Ron asked, scratching his head. Hermione nodded slowly. "But how are we gonna find the guy? He could be _anywhere_?"

Hermione started to pace, Harry and Ron watching her silently. "Well, thinking logically, the culprit obviously isn't ever going to take it off; it's far too value to lose. So we might have to ask around a bit if anyone's seen someone wearing a medallion, though no doubt they'll keep it well hidden." Hermione turned to Riddle, a sudden thought hitting her. "Do you know what it looks like?"

Again Riddle hesitated, before he drew out his wand, and Harry, Ron and Hermione flinched. He smirked before muttering a spell. In the air he drew a simple golden chain, at the end of which held a blood red stone. Encrusted in the back of the stone were letters written in beautiful golden calligraphy that said "_Puri passano senza pedaggio gli impuri saranno per sempre debitori_."

Hermione shuddered as she saw the dark, sadistically pleased look that passed over Riddle's face. Harry and Ron looked between the two of them. "It's Italian. 'The pure pass without payment-'"

"'The impure are forever indebted," Riddle finished with a sinister grin as he flashed a dangerously toothy smile at her, and she looked away quickly. Why was he looking at her like that? As far as he knew, she was a pureblood. Unless he knew something he shouldn't have. But how could he have found out?

"Right," Harry said, clearing his throat as Riddle swished his wand and the drawing disappeared from the air. "So we just have to find this medallion and capture the guy and be done with it?"

Hermione sighed heavily, looking out into the forest, her eyes veiled with a foreboding sense of trouble. Somehow, she knew that this journey would be more difficult than any that they had embarked on in all their years at Hogwarts. And with Riddle along for the ride, how much worse could it get?

"No, Harry." She answered finally, sighing as she led the three of them back to the gates and the gate-man let them out after identifying themselves. As they stood in the middle of the Hogsmeade street, Hermione realized that despite the fact she was surrounded by her friends meant _nothing_; she had _never _felt more alone.

"Somehow, I don't think it'll be _nearly _that simple."

* * *

**A/N: Okay sorry I gotta put another author's note just so I don't start getting angry reviews! Just to warn you-_yes-_it will be a Tom/Hermione story, don't flip! I've got some excellente plans for Mr. Lionel Kirkland, don't ya'll worry, keke!: ) anyways plz review, don't be too me lolz :) Thanks for reading! :)**

**Love forever&always:**

**Lil Miss Obsessed with Tom Marvolo Riddle and Hermione Jean Grangernessssss :) wooooh**


	6. The Pearl of Egypt

**A/N: Ohmigod-guess who's updating! 0.0 So, I'm terribly sorry, ya'll, I just got over an awful case of writer's block:P But after some amazingly encouraging reviews (thanks LCB!:)) I decided that it was time to stop being a lazy bum and start writing again! I hope you all enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: All familiar content owned by the lovely Joanne Rowling:)**

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Chapter Six-The Pearl of Egypt

Hermione had always thought people were exaggerating when they called her an insufferable know-it-all. Something insufferable cannot be bore; it is not tolerable in any way, shape, or form. Hermione now knew that Tom Riddle was an insufferable know-it-all.

"I don't care _how _many times you've read _Hogwarts, a History, _Macmillan, there is notable research pertaining to the fact that though many are under the impression that you cannot apparate in and out of Hogwarts, it's simply a matter of bending the magic of the wards just long enough to accommodate your passing through. It's really a simple concept, Wenlock wrote an essay on it—"

"You're obnoxious," she informed him, without looking up. Was _this _how people felt about her when she went on one of her academic rants? If so, she suddenly felt a great deal more sympathy for them.

"I don't think I am. I think you're just irritated because you know I'm right."

"You're not _right!_" she snapped, slamming her book shut and turning in her seat to face him. "For your information, I _have_ read Wenlock's essay, about a _dozen_ times, and I'll have you know that after it was released, Starkey published an essay contradicting _every single point made _in Wenlock's, so _there!_"

"Merlin, we leave you two alone for ten minutes, and you still can't go without arguing?" Hermione and Tom both jumped as Harry and Ron entered the tent, carrying armfuls of bread and fruit.

"That's the best you could do, Macmillan?" Tom grumbled, picking up an orange and sneering at it with disdain.

"Oh, don't be picky," Harry said, glancing at the dark-haired boy coldly. "We all know that the Muggle orphanage wasn't exactly five-star, so I'm sure you can adjust fairly quickly." Tom's expression darkened and Hermione avoided his gaze, feeling his mood immediately turn sour.

"So are we ready to head out?" Ron asked, sensing an argument about to ensue. "We've searched the area thoroughly enough, right? I'm telling you, our best option is Germany."

"I _know_ that, Ronald," Hermione said patiently, frowning. "But we don't know for sure whether or not he'll have gone there right away. We're not even certain of the location of Grindelwald's headquarters. We're going off virtually nothing here."

"I have an idea," Tom said quietly, and three pairs of eyes were drawn to him. "Well, the medallion originally belonged to Salazar Slytherin, didn't it? But now Grindelwald—or one of his highest-ranked men—has it. But the Slytherin line has…..died out—"Harry and Hermione shared a look at this. "Which means that they could not possibly have inherited it from Slytherin himself. Which means, most likely, that, when Slytherin died, the medallion was sold as a dark artifact, reasonably priced. Grindelwald must have recognized it for what it was, and, seeing his opportunity to lay siege on Hogwarts, purchased it…"

"Which means," Hermione cut in, catching where he was going. "That we'd have a better shot if we find out where Grindelwald purchased the medallion, as the salesman could tell us what the man he sold it to looked like—"

"—Or if it has any properties that would make locating it easier." Riddle finished, nodding slowly.

The four of them sat in silence for a moment, each absorbing this new bit of information, and how to best use it to their advantage. "There's just one problem, though," Harry said slowly. "They could have bought it anywhere."

"Not….necessarily." Tom stood up, pacing, his brow furrowed in deep, concentrated thought. "Think about it…where did Slytherin die?"

"…Northern Egypt," Hermione answered slowly, her brain whizzing. "And he had no family that he was close to. After he died, the medallion was—most likely—confiscated by the Ministry, as they recognized as a dark object, with ties to blood magic—"

"But the Egyptian Ministry has never been very good at keeping track of dark objects," Tom said, and Hermione nodded in agreement, neither of them noting the slight irritation on Harry and Ron's faces at being ignored. "So, what most likely happened was, the medallion was stolen from the Ministry, and sold into the nearest black market. So, all we have to do is go to Northern Egypt—"

"And find the person who sold them the medallion—"

"And he'll lead us to our evidence." Tom said, looking very confident.

"Right then!" Harry said, very loudly, clapping his hands together. "So what's the plan, gang?"

Hermione blinked slowly and stared Harry down as if he were an imbecile. "We're going to Egypt."

Harry pouted dejectedly, sitting back down. "Right….I thought that's what it was."

* * *

Traveling overseas by broom, Hermione could easily say, was one of the most uncomfortable voyages she had ever been forced to make in her life. The only thing that possibly made it more uncomfortable was that she had been forced to ride with Tom, pressed up against his broad, muscular back, her arms secured tightly around his waist.

"Look, Hermione, there's no way we're spending our _precious _galleons on brooms that we've got back at Hogwarts!" Ron had argued vehemently back at the tent.

"It doesn't _matter_ Ronald, we aren't _stealing_ those brooms! It's a crime!"

"It's not a crime because it's not stealing; we're going to bring them back…once we're done with them!" Harry said, nodding vigorously. "Besides, we could always just give them the money once we're done! I just don't think it would be wise to spend our galleons now when we aren't sure how long they last us."

So now Hermione sat, nearly seven hours later, closer to Tom Riddle than she had ever had the desire to be. Both Harry and Ron had oh-so-chivalrously suggested that she ride with the young You-Know-Who, and that they ride together, and it had taken every ounce of her self-control not to punch the smirk off of the Dark Lord's face.

"You quite comfortable, _Hermione?_" she could positively _hear _the arrogance laced in his tone and resisted the urge to lean against his back and let her eyes drift shut.

"Mmm," she murmured, deciding that there was no harm in her former proposition, and she leaned her forehead on his back, between his shoulder blades, and felt her breathing even out.

"Look, Macmillan, while we're here, I just wanted to say….I apologize for that day down in the kitchens. I don't know what got into me. I suppose I was just being my overly-curious self, but you did not deserve such treatment."

Hermione blinked, and wished, more than anything, that she could see his eyes at the moment, so it would be easier to convince herself that he was just feeding her a line right now; that there was no sincerity in his apology. She knew he must have some sort of motive for apologizing, that he wouldn't just do it out of the kindness of his heart, and she scoured her mind for what his motive could possibly be, what he could _want _from her enough to put on the pretty-boy face and blatantly lie to her.

"Riddle, you—"

"Look, I can see Alexandria!" Harry called over the wind, and Hermione peered down at the lights below. Harry was right; the city was emerging from the darkness rapidly. "Let's find somewhere to land."

They flew for twenty more minutes before they found a relatively isolated spot, past the residential area. The two brooms landed side-by-side, and Hermione hurriedly clamored off, stumbling on her feet slightly, starting as a pale hand caught her by the upper-arm and righted her.

"So, that old book of yours, Mione, it said that the two main ports for the black market were in Alexandria and—"

"And Cairo, yes: the two biggest cities naturally, one on the sea, and one more central to Egypt. Although, if we're going to find it, it's probably going to be in Alexandria; because the black market here is a port, near the sea, instead of closer inland, a lot of Cairo's dark objects are actually transported from the black market in Alexandria—they're connected, you see."

"So, how do we find this "black market" then? I'm assuming you can't just waltz in and ask to see all the dark objects they have in stock."

"Surprisingly enough, it's not much more difficult than that. Egypt isn't nearly as strict on their bans of dark magic as England—we're quite rare in that sense. Like Germany, it's considered a practiced art." Hermione glimpsed at Riddle, and found his dark eyes trained on her, as if she knew something she shouldn't, and she swallowed thickly, looking away.

"Shall we head into the heart of the city, then?" Ron asked, looking between the three of them. Harry nodded, and led the way, his wand in hand. "So, I have a question, then." The redhead continued. "How are we supposed to find this "black market"? Because what we're looking for, it's magical. We can't just go around asking random people if they know where the dark arts shops are—they could be Muggles!"

"Don't be silly, Ronald," Hermione scoffed. "Alexandria has an enclosed area specifically for magical peoples just like England does." Ron stared dubiously at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Diagon Alley, Ronald? Only witches and wizards can see the entrance, _the Leaky Cauldron_, so I imagine it will be something like that—"

"Or, you know, they'd just up and spell it out for us," Tom remarked, pointing above their heads, where two signs adorned a tall post, one, pointing right, reading "كان" and one pointing left, reading "يميل سحرية", and, underneath these, several translations in different languages.

"The Muggles can't see it," Ron remarked, and Hermione gave him a look that said "_Obviously._"

"The one pointing left says 'magically-inclined'." Tom informed them. "It's Arabic, which, I just realized, is going to be a problem. Alexandria's three main languages are Arabic, Greek and Italian. It might be difficult to find someone who can speak even a little English, let alone describe an ancient medallion."

"This looks familiar," Harry said, smiling. The street resembled Diagon Alley in many ways; magical shops were lined up on either side of the cobblestone street, and witches and wizards of all ages, shapes and sizes flitted this way and that, collecting cauldrons, robes, parchment, quills and owls larger than Hermione's arm.

"Nothing here looks even a little bit dark," Ron said gruffly, glaring as a passerby bumped into his shoulder. "Maybe we came to the wrong area…"

"It's not going to be out in the open," Riddle said knowledgeably "They're going to have it somewhere tucked away, where, at first glimpse, a Ministry wizard would never guess—"

Hermione suddenly broke away from the group, her eyes intent on a corner between two buildings where a large dumpster sat, surrounded by rubbish that had not quite made it in. She ran her hands along the wall of the first building, feeling a tingling against her fingertips. "No….." She withdrew her wand from her robes, tapping random bricks, trying to find a sequence. "This isn't like Diagon Alley, where the dark arts shops are just down the lane; they're smarter than that." She came to a brick which had a deep grove in the center, where it had darkened from time and erosion. Hermione pressed her wand tip against the grove—

And was promptly sucked inside.

She looked around, feeling the immediate darkening of her surroundings. A permanent despondency seemed to be cast upon this place, and she couldn't shake the eerie feeling that crept throughout her mind.

Tom came through the wall next, looking quite intrigued. "I always though European wizards were the most intelligent."

Hermione smirked. "And I'm sure the Egyptians think that they're most intelligent, but when it comes to a matter of facts, as both opinions are biased, who would ever know?"

Harry came third, and then finally, Ron, who was coughing violently. "Well that was bloody awkward," he growled. "What's the ruddy point of that? I _hate _traveling through walls! _Every year_, the Hogwarts Express, ever since Dobby and his stupid prank—"

Both Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped. She gave him a very pointed glare, and his mouth immediately snapped shut, seeming to realize what he had done. Hermione glanced at Riddle out of the corner of her eye, and she was horrified to see a look of utmost curiosity upon his face.

"I don't recall you ever having rode the Hogwarts Express, Mr. Hurst."

Ron swallowed thickly, and quite suddenly, the alley seemed far too small. "Yeah, well, I've seen the pictures, you know….of Platform 9 ¾, yeah? And Jack and Donnie have told me stories about a lot who would play pranks on their enemies by spelling the wall shut, so when they went to run through, they ran straight into it. Funny stories, actually, but I've been frightened of walking through walls ever since they told me."

It was a believable explanation, if not for the audible tremble in Ron's voice, and the fact that his face was about three shades lighter than it normally was. Hermione was suddenly all too aware of the fact that Riddle had his wand drawn, and was pointing it, quite conspicuously, at the three of them.

"I think you're lying, Hurst," he whispered. "In fact, I think all three of you are hiding something."

Hermione was irritated beyond belief, mostly at Ron, for slipping up at the most inopportune moment, but partly at Riddle, for being such a power-hungry prick. "We don't have time for this," she snapped. "You can investigate our pasts and satisfy your power-trip later, Riddle, right now, we've got a job to do." She raised her wand, pointing it at him. "As long as we are out here, for the remainder of these seven weeks, you will not mention or question our histories—"

Riddle grabbed her wrist, slamming her against the wall, and Harry and Ron gave shouts of indignation. As they moved to help her, an invisible wall seemed to spring up between the two of them and Hermione and Riddle. She gave a yelp as his fingers squeezed her with bruising force. "You seem to be under the impression, _Hermione, _that you have the right to order me around; that I will listen to you, because I am obligated to. I know that you know what the lot of us were _really _doing in the forest that night, so I know that _you know_ that I am not one to be trifled with."

Hermione spluttered, trying to focus on one thought at a time. "I—you—they told you!"

He laughed coldly, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand up. "Silly girl, they didn't have to tell me. I could see it in their minds, just like I could do to you….right now, if I wished it."

Hermione felt panic rising in her throat, and she tried her best to conjure up her occlumency shield. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, doing her best to think of something, _anything _that would keep him away from what he wanted to know, what he _could not be allowed to know_.

After a few moments of nothing, Hermione cracked one eye open, peering at Riddle unsurely. He stood there in silence, staring down at her with what seemed to be a mixture of confusion and frustration. She blinked open both eyes, holding her breath as she waited for his next words. When he didn't say anything, she let out all her air in a big huff. "_What_?" She asked, annoyed that he was being so impossible to read.

"I—I do not understand you, Macmillan. You know what I am capable of, and yet, you do not give me what I want…"

She blinked one, two, three times before her eyebrows shot up and she let out a most ungraceful, un-lady-like snort. "Are—are you serious right now, Riddle? I desperately hope you aren't being serious, because….if you are, I just lost most of my respect for your supposed _intelligence_. You honestly think that just because you threaten people, and hurt people, you'll get what you want? Killing people…..it doesn't make them like you; it….it just makes them…._dead_. **(a/n: I'm sorry guys, I just had to! Brownie points if you can tell me the reference****)**

He stared at her for a few more moments before taking down the shield, smirking as Harry and Ron, who had been leaning against it, attempting to break it, tumbled to the ground in an inelegant heap. Harry lept to his feet. "Mione, are you okay! Did he hurt you?" Hermione blinked in surprise, before realizing that Harry and Ron mustn't have been able to hear what was going on behind the shield. She threw Riddle a long side glance before turning back to Harry.

"Don't be silly, I'm fine. Now _come on_, we need to find out where that medallion came from."

After a moment, the three boys followed after her, the two dark-haired ones glaring each other down as they went.

* * *

**A/N: There we are! I hope it made up for a fraction of the freakishly long wait:) I'm going to try to keep writing tonight, and if I go crazy, I might just finish this story before the end of Christmas break (I only have 5 days left, so don't hold me accountable!) Thanks sooo much for the continued support!**

**Lots of love!**


	7. Nature Versus Nurture

**A/N: Whoot whoot! two updates in one night!-yeah, I'm feeling really guilty:P **

**Enjoy! I really really like this chapter!**

**disclaimer: all familiar content belongs to J.K Rowling**

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Chapter Seven—Nature Vs. Nurture

"Can I speak to the owner, please?"

The dark-haired man stared blankly at Harry. "Mi dispiace, che non so che cosa stai dicendo."

Harry turned back to Hermione, running a frustrated hand through his hair. She stepped forward. "No, no, it's okay, it's Italian, which is a little easier to translate. Erm….parla in inglese?"

An expression of understanding passed over the man's face ."Oh, oh, oh, si, si, solo un attimo." With that, the man rushed out of the room, leaving the four of them to look around the shop.

"Impressive Italian, Herms," Ron said, winking, and she rolled her eyes, running her fingers over a strange statue of a skeleton horse, which seemed to be screaming in pain.

"Don't be silly…that was very basic—I'm surprised he even understood it."

The door opened and the man who they had been speaking to before rushed back into the room, this time accompanied by a tall, tanned, black-haired man whose hairline seemed to be receding faster than the wrinkles on his face could keep up. He smiled warmly at them and spread his arms wide in a customary gesture.

"Welcome, welcome!" He exclaimed in a thick Italian accent. "You are very welcome here, my friends! You come from Europe, si?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, reaching forward to shake his hand. "I'm Hermione, and this is Harry, Ronald, and Tom." She gestured to each boy individually. She was feeling more and more uncertain about their journey as the seconds passed. This man did not seem like the type of man that handled dark artifacts on a daily basis. "We're actually looking for something—a medallion. Salazar Slytherin's medallion…."

"Ah," he nodded slowly, rubbing along his jaw line. "You look for de medallion of Slytherin. Many have pursued dis conquest, si? I have never come across dis….medallion. It has never touched my store's shelves."

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling dejection wash over her. The man touched her shoulder, and she looked up.

"However, I….know of de man who…'as come across dis…medallion."

"Really?" Hermione's eyes brightened, and behind her, she felt Harry and Ron step closer, their breathing quickening. "Would you….I mean….could you be so kind as to direct us to him?"

The man sighed, running a hand through what was left of his hair and moving to stand behind his desk. He reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a slip of parchment and a quill. "I….do not wish to…mislead you, my dear, but….dis man….de man dat knows of de medallion…he is not a man to be trifled with. He will either except your business, or he will not."

"That's alright," Hermione said quickly, eagerly. "We can deal with it. It's….it's a matter of life and death."

He let out another whoosh of air, but then started to scribble down the directions and address, before thrusting the parchment into her hands. "Do not say I did not warn you."

Without another word, he disappeared into the back of the shop, his assistant following quickly, throwing them a wary glance over his shoulder.

"We have to go," she told the boys.

"I dunno, Mione," Ron said slowly. "I mean, this guy seemed _pretty _frightened of whoever this bloke is."

"But he's a _shop owner_, Ron," Hermione pointed out, dragging them out of the store and in the direction that the Italian man had written down. "The worst he can do is kick us out of his shop, right?"

"I dunno, Hermione," Harry muttered, and she turned her shocked eyes on him, him being the last person she'd expect to be frightened. "I've got a….strange feeling."

"Don't be stupid. If you lot don't come, I'll go on my own." With that, she marched ahead, and after a moment she heard the boys move to catch up with her. They trekked across the alley until they came to the door labeled with the correct address. Hermione took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing," she breathed, and pushed open the door.

Bells jingled as they walked inside, and through the dim lighting, Hermione could just make out the counter, where a tiny, frightened-looking young man stood, and beside him, lazily lounging in a comfortable-looking arm-chair, was a blonde, curly-haired man with a book clasped in both hands, his eyes trained intently on the words in front of him.

"Hello," Hermione said to the boy at the counter. He flinched. "Erm…we were wondering if we could speak to the owner of this shop?"

There was a beat of silence, and then, "He doesn't speak English, so there isn't any point in speaking English at him." With a jolt, Hermione realized that the blonde man in the chair was English, and, also, her cheeks reddening, that he was extremely attractive. She didn't, however, like the condescending tone of voice that he had used with her.

"Well," she cleared her throat. "Pardon me for not knowing, but seeing as you _do _speak English, I'd be much obliged if _you _went and got the owner."

He finally looked up at her, his eyes amused behind a pair of rectangular glasses. "Oh, but I don't make a habit of doing things for people who are snappish with me; it just isn't polite."

Hermione rolled her eyes out of custom. "_Look_, I wasn't trying to be rude, we're just in a bit of a hurry, and I'd _really _appreciate it if you went and got the owner for me…_now_." She heard Ron and Harry's amused titters from behind her, and blew a strand of fallen hair from her eyes.

The blonde man tilted his head, studying her for a moment, before smiling and rising. She swallowed thickly as she realized that he was _huge, _a good six-and-a-half feet tall. He gave a little bow, which she was sure was meant to be mocking, and said, "I'd be glad to," before sweeping out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Hermione whirled on the three boys, her cheeks aflame with irritation, and—much to her irk—enthrallment.

"Can you _believe_ how rude he was? I mean _honestly! _Who hires a shop hand that is _that _incompetent! I can hardly imagine how the owner deals with him on a regular basis—"

The door swung open again and Hermione turned, her stomach dropping to her feet. The blonde man strode back through the door, no one accompanying him, and offered her a supercilious smile, holding out a hand for her to shake.

"So pleased to meet you," he said lowly, smirking at the absolutely horror on her face.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, not even bothering to take his hand. "I….look, earlier, didn't mean to be rude. I was just a bit—"

"Oh, _yes_, and now she _wants_ something, so she actually acts like a civilized young lady, how charming," he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest as he towered over her. Hermione felt her temper boiling, and her face heating up at a frightening speed.

"_Look_, I've apologized for acting like a child, now I'd _appreciate _it if you'd do the same!"

"Hermione," Tom murmured from her left, his gaze sternly commanding her to shut her mouth, but she raised her eyebrows at him, glancing pointedly at his drawn wand—so she wasn't the only one who was annoyed with this man.

"Yes, yes, listen to your boyfriend, _Hermione_."

Before she could respond, he turned and slid up onto the counter, resting his hands behind him as he stared down at her. "What do you want?"

Hermione immediately snapped back into business mode. "A little bird told us that you have come into contact with the medallion of Slytherin."

He let out a cold laugh. "Yes."

"And…." Hermione continued, refusing to meet his probing gaze. "We were wondering if….if you could perhaps tell us what the person you sold it to looked like—"

"Or if there was any way of tracking it," Tom cut in persistently, and the blonde man's eyes drifted over to him, arching an eyebrow in an appraisingly sort of way.

"Even if I did remember what the person I sold it to looked like, or whether or not there _is_, in fact, a way of tracking it, why in Merlin's name would I tell you…._children?"_

"We're hardly children," Hermione argued, fidgeting under his unwavering gaze. "And, because—because it's _very _important. We aren't just looking for it for some sort of thrill—we _need _it, desperately."

The blonde man studied the four of them a second more. "Tell me why."

Hermione's eyes immediately flickered over to Tom, who was picking at his nails in a nonchalant sort of way, but after a moment, he gave a short, decisive nod, and Hermione brought her eyes back to the blonde man.

"It's sort of an unbelievable story, actually. We—the four of us—attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—that's in Scotland—"

"—I know where Hogwarts is," he said sharply.

Hermione was suddenly curious. "Did you attend Hogwarts?"

He smirked, and Hermione shivered. "I did—six years ago." She mentally calculated; that made him twenty-three.

She internally groaned. Why did she even _care _how old he was? Tilting her head back, she narrowed her eyes, studying his face, her lips quirking up at the corners. "I'll be you were a Slytherin."

He sneered, "I'll bet you're a Ravenclaw, with a deduction like that."

"A few nights ago, Hogwarts was attacked, by some of Grindelwald's men. The thing is, we all know—and Dumbledore proved it—that the wards can _only _be broken from the inside, meaning that someone on the inside of the castle had to have broken the wards in order for Grindelwald's men to have gotten in. Well, a few of our friends happened to be outside, after hours, the same night. When the Ministry wizards appeared, our friends were taken into custody, believed to have been the ones who had let in Grindelwald's men. We figured if we could find the man who had the medallion, which—as I'm sure you know—grants entrance to Hogwarts, we could bring him back as evidence to set our friends free."

The blonde man was silent for a moment. "How touching," he said finally, and Hermione scoffed in annoyance. "Something still doesn't add up, though. Even _if _someone in the castle did break the wards, they simply would have had to open the gates and let Grindelwald's men in _that _way. There would have been no need for the medallion at all."

Hermione's head was pounding now, and she felt a sort of dread spread through her, making her limbs heavy. She gnawed on her lip for a moment, thinking hard. "But…we think that maybe the person who broke the wards didn't _want _to get caught letting Grindelwald's men in. They broke the words, and then made a quick escape, leaving whoever was wearing the medallion to sneak in and open the gates himself."

"I have a question about that," Ron interrupted. "If Slytherin's whole point of _creating _the medallion was so he could sneak in and out of the castle without the other three noticing, then wouldn't the entire point be moot if you had to lower the wards every time you used it?"

"But, Ron," Hermione began to explain patiently. "The thing was, because _Slytherin _was wearing the medallion, and the blood in the medallion matched the blood that ran through his veins, the wards didn't _need _to be lowered—he could slip right through them. They would of course, still need to be lowered in order to open the gate and let in the remaining followers, but still—"

"So what you're saying," Harry said slowly. "Is that someone with Slytherin's blood—someone of his descent—could have easily slipped through the wall and let in Grindelwald's followers?"

Hermione's face slowly turned towards Harry, her eyes widening as she took in what he said. "No…" she said after a while. "Because….even if there _was _someone of Slytherin's descent, they would have already been in the castle." Harry nodded, realizing her point, though his eyes flickered suspiciously to Riddle, and then back to the blonde man.

"So…" Riddle pressed, his eyes intent on the man. "Can you help us or can't you?"

He stared back at Riddle with such intensity that Hermione almost looked away. "I'm still missing the part where this is all my problem?"

"C'mon," Hermione said softly, and his eyes fell upon her face. "We….we've traveled miles and miles just to find this _stupid_ medallion. Our friends—the ones that are in custody—they're _seventeen_ years old, and I don't care _how _little of _your _problem it is, _no one _deserves to be condemned to Azkaban at the age of seventeen."

He frowned thoughtfully at her, his brows scrunched together in concentration. Finally, he rose, moving behind the counter, and started to shuffle things around, disappearing beneath it for a moment. From below, they heard his voice call, "The man I sold it to was German—thick accent; blonde hair, blue-eyes, rather large nose. He wore a suit, pale sort of fellow. You couldn't pick him out of a crowd. He rose from behind the counter, holding a small box which, when open, was revealed to hold a number of shrunken items. Hermione watched with fascination as he withdrew item after item from the box, obviously doing inventory; a shrunken grandfather clock, a shrunken bookcase, even a shrunken automobile. "As for tracking it…well, you would have to have someone of Slytherin blood to do that." He moved towards the door that led to the back of the shop. "Good day."

Hermione made a quick decision. She called after him, "But….what if we _do _have someone of Slytherin blood?"

He froze, his hand hovering an inch above the doorknob. She watched his shoulders stiffen, before he drew himself up to full height and turned to face her. The look on his face could not be described as anything less than pure curiosity.

"Well, then. I'd have to ask you to stay for tea, now wouldn't I?"

* * *

"And you're in Slytherin, too, did you say?" The five of them sat around a small table. After discussing the medallion a bit longer down stairs, the man—who they had discovered was named Zelos Armadei—had invited them upstairs to his flat for tea.

"Yeah, seventh year," Harry told him, seeming completely at ease. Hermione, however, sat rather stiffly, holding her tea with both hands, gazing around the flat with suspicion. It was unnerving, really, how quickly he had agreed after finding out that one of them was of Slytherin's descent. She could see that Tom, too, looked alert, his eyes flitting about the room. They landed on her for a moment, and, at once, they both seemed to share an understanding.

"So, I have to ask," Zelos began, setting down his tea. "Which one of you is the descendant?"

They sat in silence for a moment, none of them eager to speak up, before finally, Tom said, "Me."

"Knew it," Zelos smirked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "You've got that same sort of…._air _about you—not that I knew him personally, of course, but it's depicted and implied in all of the documents and paintings. You've got that….that look about you, you know? Although I suppose that sort of thing is passed down, it's in your nature."

"So that's your stance then?" Hermione spoke up. "-On the whole 'nature versus nurture' argument, I mean. You believe that each person is inherently good or evil—one way or another? That is: it is unchangeable, regardless of circumstance."

He eyed her with the same sort of approval that Hermione often met in her Professors' eyes, and, very occasionally, in Tom's. "Yes, it is."

Hermione frowned at her lap, grappling for an argument strong enough to convince such a stubborn, obstinate man. "But—but…you don't think that, even if a person was born with the conscious enough to be evil, if they were raised by saints, it would have no impact?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "The person would, granted, develop a conscious, perhaps, and question the sins that he performed as averse to being blind to them, however, no, I believe that they would still do inherently evil things, out of natural instinct."

"How can you believe that?" Hermione groaned. "_Everything_ a person knows—there morals, their virtues, their beliefs—is instilled within them by their parents, or guardians, or whoever raised them. If a person were to be lacking in such morals, it would be because they were never taught them, not because they had a cause to be sinful."

He peered at her over his glass, his fingers folded together in front of his face. "You're no Ravenclaw, lassie."

She tilted her head back defiantly. "What would you have me be, then?"

He smirked. "They'd create a whole new house, just for you."

"What would it be called?"

The mischievous glint in his eyes did nothing to quell Hermione's nerves. "Over-emotional."

He, Harry, and Ron roared with laughter, and even Riddle's face broke out with that rare but genuine smile. Hermione rolled her eyes, pushing away from the table and rising. "Just hilarious," she quipped. "Where's your loo?"

"Just down the hall, to your left," Zelos replied, still chuckling.

That evening, Hermione sat in front of the fireplace, immersed in _Hogwarts, a History_. Zelos had offered to let them stay in his flat for the night, promising that they would get started tracking the medallion in the morning. Harry and Ron had fallen straight asleep, but Hermione still felt anxious, not liking sleeping in a stranger's home with no protection.

"Can't sleep, either?" Hermione nearly jumped as Tom sunk down on the couch beside her. She took a deep breath, glancing at Tom, and was once again struck by how handsome he was.

_What was wrong with her lately? First Lionel, then Zelos, now Tom…_

"No," she said finally, blushing as she felt his quizzical gaze on her. "No, I don't feel quite safe enough for that."

"Me either," he admitted. "Dunno how those two did it." He threw a glance at Ron and Harry, who were both curled up on a blanket on the floor, Ron's snore reverberating throughout the room, making Hermione let out a soft giggle.

"When are Ron and Harry known for their intelligence, though?" she said, smiling, and watching with surprise as he gave her a small smile back. "Are—are you alright, Riddle?"

He frowned, turning his thoughtful gaze on the fire. "Hermione, did you—did you mean what you said earlier, about people not being inherently good or evil?"

She searched his face, trying to find even a semblance of what he was thinking. "Yes," she answered slowly. "I meant it. Dark wizards like Grindelwald are often classified as evil, but…I don't think that's entirely true…"

"There is no good or evil, only power, and those too weak to seek it." Tom quoted in a monotone, and then looked her for confirmation. She felt at flicker of sadness at how far gone he already was…so lacking in morals that he needed someone else to define them.

"That's not…exactly what I meant," she said slowly, trying to make her tone soft, patient. "Power, at times, can be even more dangerous than evil itself. The actually evil in a person is seeking out power, which can lead to people getting hurt."

"We discussed this once," Tom said quietly. "Ambition, self-preservation; you and I had different views on the subject."

"We did," Hermione agreed, and then tossed him a fleeting grin. "But I think that can be said about a lot of things between us."

A small smirk appeared on his lips, and Hermione almost sighed in relief at the familiarity of it. "Like?"

"Well…" She turned her body so that she was facing him, and crossed her legs in front of her. He turned to, bending one knee and letting his other leg stretch out in front of the sofa, his knee brushing hers. She had a strange sensation, then, of being encased by him, and she suddenly wondered what it would be like to have his strong arms around her, his tall figure forming a protective cocoon around her.

Hermione blinked, mentally chastising herself. "Well," she repeated, her mind still trying to focus on the subject at hand. "For example….you believe that dark magic is an art, and should be practiced, while _I _believe that it is vile and destructive."

He groaned, leaning his head back to stare exasperatedly at the ceiling, and the cords of his neck were suddenly exposed. Hermione could see the muscles flexing as he chuckled, the tightness of his shirt exposing his collarbone to her. She was suddenly struck with the desire to reach out and touch him.

"Could you possibly have picked a more typical topic, Macmillan?" He snorted, shifting so his bent leg straightened, and he lifted his other leg to rest on the other side of her. Hermione felt her face reddening as she realized that she was practically sitting in the lap of _Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

"Let's discuss it then," he said obligingly, snapping her out of her daydream. "Do enlighten me, Hermione, _why_ do you think dark magic is oh-so-wretched?"

She stared at him blankly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. She spluttered, "Well—you—I mean—it's common sense, really! Spells like that—spells like the _Unforgivables_, are intended to harm people! You can't just go around hurting people just because you feel like it! It isn't right!"

Tom let out a heavy sigh, sitting up and leaning forward, placing his hands on his shins so he was staring very directly into her eyes. "And you couldn't even come up with an original argument, shame, shame." He shook his head disapprovingly, and she rolled her eyes. "Let me explain something to you, Macmillan, and I'll go slow, because it requires _quite _ a lot of brain power. You know the spell _Flipendo_, yes?"

"Of course," Hermione snapped.

"And can you tell me what _Flipendo _does, _Hermione_?" She didn't like his patronizing tone of voice. She folded her arms over her chest moodily.

"Well…it knocks an object backwards," she answered irritably. "But, Tom, I don't see what any of this has to do with—"

"Listen, pet," he shushed her, curling a tendril of her hair around his finger. Hermione froze, distinctly smelling a mixture of cologne and a masculine musk on his skin. "Don't talk, just listen. So, you've informed me that _Flipendo _knocks an object backwards, yes? So, let's think of a situation, shall we? Let's say a dark wizard is holding a wand to a small child. There is a lake behind the child. The child cannot swim, and the dark wizard knows this. He casts _Flipendo_, and the child is knocked back into the lake. The child cannot swim, and hence, he drowns. And though this spell was not intended to be dark, it has just ended an innocent child's life."

Hermione was frozen in his gaze. Her mind was exploding with all sorts of contradictions. He _was _right though, technically. Spells that were not classified as dark spells could, essentially, be used for a dark intent. She looked back at him though, determined to get her point across. "But you can't possibly tell me that the Unforgivables are _okay._" He opened his mouth to protest. "And _don't _tell me about the medical advances, I _know _that the killing curse can be a painless way to end the suffering of a patient, and that if someone is struggling or delirious, the Imperious curse can be an effective way to calm them down, but there is absolutely _no _way that you can tell me that the Cruciatus curse has any purpose other than pure sadism.

Tom was quite for a moment. He gazed at her pensively, his hand absently drawing circles on the fabric of the sofa. Finally, he said, "Actually, the Cruciatus curse is more helpful in terms of politics."

Hermione looked at him sharply, having an inkling as to where he was going with his. He smiled coldly at her, his eyes glinting as she raised a hand to push her hair back from her face, resting for a moment on the skin of her neck before flickering back up to meet her eyes.

"I've found that the Cruciatus curse can be rather affective means of persuasion, haven't you?"

Her mouth opened and closed for several moments, before she looked away sharply, the flames dancing in her brown eyes. "You're incorrigible," she told him honestly.

"Told you," he muttered, and she glanced back at him, frowning.

"Told me what?"

This time, it was he who looked away, and Hermione had never seen such a look of helpless defeat on a person's face. "A person is either inherently good or evil. There is no gray area."

And Hermione was sad because she had nothing to say.


	8. Heraklion

**A/N: Yes, yes I am on a roll, aren't I? ;) I'm really loving all the reviews, guys! Honestly, they're EXTREMELY appreciated! Let me know if you catch any grammar mistakes, mispellings, etc. I wrote this chapter in quite a rush!**

**Disclaimer: Familiar content owned by J.K Rowling**

* * *

Chapter Eight—Heraklion

The scale tipped back, the raised end glowing bright blue. Hermione watched absently, her fingers idly toying with the loose strings of her sweater. The boys were gathered around the table, watching, focused, as he added another droplet of Tom's blood into the measuring bowl.

"You aren't going to have to take anymore, are you?" Hermione asked worriedly. Tom already seemed a few shades paler, and when he stood, his movements seemed wobbly, as if he did not have complete control over his limbs.

"I might," Zelos murmured. "When the raised end glows red, it's ready. It looks like it has a few more shades to go before it gets there." And he was right. The scale glowed a pale violet, and Hermione's stomach clenched as Zelos moved the needle towards Tom's arm once more, noting how the dark-haired boy's jaw clenched.

"And…._there!_" Hermione stood, moving towards the table, trying to wedge her way between the boys. The scale was glowing a vivid blood red, and she could almost feel the magic it was emitting. "Quickly now, install the compass." Harry immediately obeyed, taking the compass from the counter behind them and clicking it into place. The magic was definitely pulsing from the scale now. She could almost feel a ripple in the air as they all waited with baited breath, watching the needles of the compass spin rapidly, faster than any of their eyes could follow.

Suddenly, it froze, the needle aiming directly between the notches that represented North and North-West. Hermione's breath seemed to catch in her throat. "Get a map," she told Zelos. "_Quickly." _He left the room, only to return minutes later with a fairly large world map. He handed it to Hermione, and she spread it out on the table, taking the quill from his hand and marking their position.

"Here _we _are," she told them, pointing to the dot, under which read _Alexandria_. "The compass is pointing a little less than North-west, which points to _all _these countries here, meaning that our man could either be in Greece—" she circled it on the map. "Bulgaria—Serbia—Croatia—Hungary—Romania—"

"That's too many," Ron said, shaking his head. "There's absolutely _no _way we could cover even half of those in the time that we have—"

"Wait," Zelos said, disappearing behind the counter, and they could hear him shuffling through the draws. He reappeared after a few moments, holding an aged slip of parchment. "I've had this scale since I took over the shop—and my father before me. After studying it's characteristics for quite some time, he developed this chart." He aligned the chart with the scale, pointing to several coloured dots on the chart and describing them. "Each shade, he told me, represents a distance. Say it was a light, terra cotta red—that would mean that the medallion was further away, like up _here_—" he crossed out a few of the Northern countries that Hermione had circled: Hungary, Croatia, Serbia. "Whereas if it were, say, crimson, then we could narrow it down to Bulgaria. However, because it's such a vivid shade of red, like here—" he pointed at the circle at the top of the chart. "Really, the only option is—"

"Greece," Hermione finished, looking slightly surprised. "What in Sam-heck is he doing there?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Think logically, Macmillan. Which two countries are, by far, the world's most predominant producers of dark witches and wizards?"

Hermione blinked. "Oh. So he's recruiting?"

"Maybe—or looking for something, like us." Tom said before turning to Zelos. "So, it isn't any more specific than what country it is? We just have to search throughout Greece?"

"Yes, Zelos said, snapping the compass out of the compartment and slipping it into his robes. "But I can tell you know that, like here, most of the dark artifacts will be closer to the sea than inland—much easier to transport that way. And Greece actually has an extremely overwhelming population of witches and wizards, so it shouldn't be too hard to find someone who will point you in the right direction."

He paused for a moment, looking at the four of them. "I know that your stay here has been a pleasant one, but if you were to journey down to Cairo, those wizards running the dark arts shops would not be quite so friendly. The same can be said for your journey to Greece. I suggest you tread carefully."

"Thank you," Hermione said honestly. "You have no idea how much this has helped us. I—"

"We should go," Tom said, suddenly hurried. "If he's in Greece, he might not be there long, and he could be moving fast, so we'd have no means to follow him. We can't waste any more time."

The four of them bid their adieus to Zelos, thanking him profusely for him help, and hurried out of the shop, away from the alley, through the wall, and back into the brightly lit streets of Alexandria. "Merlin, that helped," Ron remarked. "Do you think we can fly to Greece fast enough to catch the bloke?"

"I dunno," Tom said, his face distorted in a frown. "It'll be much shorter than the flight was from England to here, but I'm worried that if we don't find him in time, we might lose track of him for good."

"Maybe if we had stayed a bit longer, we could have convinced him to loan us the scale," Hermione said.

"Yes, well, considering the fact that none of us could bear sitting there and watching you flirt with him for another moment, I'd say that's a terrible idea."

Harry, Ron and Hermione's eyes all swiveled to Riddle, who was looking forward, but his mouth was now set in a cold sneer. "_Excuse me_?" Hermione hissed, looking infuriated. "I—flirting with him? I was _using _our only chance of getting help! Excuse me for actually wanting to find the stupid medallion—"

"Right and I wonder why he agreed so quickly," Riddle said sharply. "Promised him the night of his life if he did?"

Hermione froze, her eyes zeroing in on Riddle's enraged face with disbelief. "_What _is your problem?" She stared into his eyes, watching as flickers of emotion crossed through his expression, before she caught one in particular.

"_Oh. Merlin_," she said, letting out a loud snort. Without another word, she whirled about, stomping off in the direction of where they had left their brooms, although most of the anger seemed to be gone from her face, and was replaced with amusement. The boys followed her after a moment, baffled as to what had gotten into her.

The broom ride to Greece was a relatively awkward one. Tom and Hermione sat in silence, neither of them wanting to address what had happened. But after nearly two hours of this, Hermione could not help but taunt him a little bit.

"You know, if I had realized that you would get so jealous, I wouldn't have paid so much attention to him," she whispered, her chin brushing against his shoulder. She felt his entire body tense beneath her arms, and, from her point of view, she could see the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched it.

"I—I was _not _jealous. I was merely pointing out that your antics could be interpreted as slaggish, if observed by the wrong person." She let out a short laugh, tightening her arms around him waist as they dipped into a deep dive to avoid a rather precarious-looking raincloud.

"Right, well I'll be sure not to offend you with my _slaggish _antics any more, especially not in the presence of men who could be potentially better looking than you." He turned his head slightingly, his eyes meeting hers over his shoulder, and Hermione was surprised to see a bit of insecurity in his gaze, despite the coldness that he was trying so desperately to cover it up with. "Tom," she told him in an honest tone, meeting his eyes directly. "I'm kidding. Mr. Armadei was _not _better looking than you."

The moment was broken as he snorted, facing forward again with a juvenile sort of smirk. "I know he wasn't. You think I'm unaware of the fact that I'm dazzling handsome?"

"Well, I dunno," Hermione said, pretending to look thoughtful. "You've yet to dazzle me."

He turned back to her again, the smirk gone this time, and stared at her very seriously, his mouth drawn into a straight line. His eyes seemed to look right into her soul as he stared at her, tracing a hand down the side of her neck, brushing it along her jaw line—Hermione felt her breathing quicken and unconsciously, her gaze flickered down to his lips—

—Those lips that were now smirking triumphantly at her. Her gaze flew back up to his eyes, which seemed to be mocking her. "Haven't I, though?" He turned back around, and Hermione stared at his back.

_Hasn't he—what? What was he talking about—oh!_

She felt her face heat up and she glared at the back of his head, suddenly feeling the childish urge to bite him on the shoulder.

"Don't pout, Macmillan," he called back to her over the wind, as if he had known what she was thinking. "It isn't becoming."

Hermione did not speak to him for the rest of the trip.

* * *

"It would be only logical that we check Athens first," Harry said for nearly the sixth time as they trudged down the streets, staring at yet another building looming from the grim. They had gone into nearly every shop in the healthily populated wizarding area, and not a single person had come in contact with the medallion. Sure, many of them had heard of it, seen pictures of it, but no one had any first-hand experience.

"I don't think he's here, guys," Hermione said, peering into the dark windows. "We could check a few more shops, but I just have a feeling that….that he's not here."

"Well, where else would he be?" Ron snapped, looking agitated. "That bald man back there informed us that Athens was the largest mainland port—"

"What about off the mainland?" Hermione suggested suddenly. "He mentioned a port in Heraklion, didn't he? Why don't we check there?"

Ron groaned. "Oh, Mione, that's another overseas flight! If I see another meter of ocean, I might vomit."

Harry snorted. "You better get you're barf-bag ready then, Ronnikins, because Hermione seems quite adamant."

It was nearly dark when they arrived in Heraklion, and, after determining that the majority of the shops were closed, the group decided to check in at the nearest magical inn. Hermione and Tom sat idly at a table while Harry and Ron paid the man at the counter.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Tom asked her suddenly, and she blinked at him in surprise. He had been broodingly quiet all day; she had yet to hear a word out of him until now. Her gaze dropped to the table top, drumming her fingers against the wood.

"I—I've got this strange feeling….like—"

"No, no, no—you do not understand! I need to leave—tonight! I cannot vaste anymore of my time!"

Hermione and Tom both froze, neither of them daring to breathe, but both of their ears cocked in the direction that the voice was coming from.

The man that he was speaking to gave a quick, rapid reply in German, and whatever he said must've frustrated his companion greatly, because he slammed his fist down on the table, leaning forward so that they were nose to nose.

"You cannot argue vith me! My master—he needs ze box by tonight! If zat vand is not in safe hands, my master vill have no vere to go—no way to fight! And if _Dumbledore _gets involved….vell, zat cannot be ze best for eizer party, now can it?"

"So, we're just down the hall—" Harry appeared at Hermione's shoulder, and both she and Tom shushed him, glaring at him fiercely in a warning way. "What?" Tom inclined his head towards the man sitting a few tables over, who was cursing at his companion. "Oh, Merlin," Harry lowered his voice, sinking into the chair beside Hermione. "So you think that's our man?"

"We can't be certain," Ron argued quietly. "I mean, there could be quite a few German men in Greece—"

"We'll just have to follow him, then." Hermione said, still watching the man from the corner of her eye.

Harry looked slightly put out. "So, what you're saying is that I just bought a room for nothing?"

No one bothered to answer him. The four of them sat in silence, trying valiantly not to glance at the man every thirty-seconds. After a few minutes of this, Tom hissed, "We're being too suspicious. _Act natural_."

There was a beat, and then Ron leaned towards Harry, saying in carrying voice, "D'you see that match last Saturday? Between Bulgaria and Ireland?"

Harry snorted, leaning back in his chair and feigning a yawn "I don't care what you say, mate, McDowell's got a leg up on Polakoff _anyday_."

"Sure he does," Ron sneered, and Hermione wondered, for a moment, that if they put as much effort into their schoolwork as they did into their acting at the moment, if they'd have her beat out on the exams. "But McDowell's only _one player_; it doesn't do any good having _one good member _if the rest of your team is slower than dragon dung."

Hermione rolled her eyes, zoning out of their conversation, but her mind snapped immediately back to the present when Tom's arm looped around the back of her chair and he leaned into her, his head dipping so he could whisper into her ear: "He looks very suspicious; he seems to realize that he was talking a bit loud, a few moments ago. He keeps looking at us."

She glanced up, and found his piercing blue eyes on her, and quickly looked away again. She saw Tom's jaw tense, and immediately knew she had made a mistake. "_Don't_ look at him," Tom commanded in her ear. "He's going to apparate away if we aren't careful, and that _cannot _happen. Pretend I said something ridiculous." She didn't think, she just rolled her eyes, hitting his hand, which had make its way into her curls, away. He smiled, leaning into her again, and she subconsciously reached out a hand and let it rest on his thigh. It felt natural—it was something a couple would do, right? He clasped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

"Think we have him convinced yet?" Tom murmured, pressing his lips against her temple.

"I dunno, but look at Harry and Ron," Hermione giggled. She watched Tom glance over at the two other boys, whose faces were in similar expression of shock. She felt Tom send a swift kick under the table at them, and then both resumed their conversation.

"Idiots," Tom whispered, shaking his head slightly, but smiling as Hermione laughed liltingly. "Blush."

_Why was it so easy? _How come it was so simple for her face to heat up, to shift her eyes to the ground and quirk her lips upward into a modest little smile?

Because it didn't matter that they were acting—it didn't matter that all they were doing was trying to convince a middle-aged man that there was nothing suspicious about a bunch of teenagers sitting in a pub when they should be in school. All that mattered was that her brain was having a very hard time separating the tender look in his eyes, the gentle way his thumb stroked circles on her hand, from the fact that _this was not real_.

"C'mon," Tom murmured, and Hermione snapped out of her daze, noting immediately that the German man had stood and was now at the counter paying for his drink, along with his companion. They waited until the two men left the building, and then stood to follow. Once they were outside, they moved warily, studying the man's back as he walked down the street, towards a sign that read something that none of them could interpret. "We've got to stay close enough that we can grab him if he apparates, but far enough that he won't notice."

"I've got a better idea," said Harry, and he withdrew his invisibility cloak from his robes. Hermione hadn't even realized he had brought it. "You two go under this and follow him, close enough to grab him if he apparates. Ron and I will follow further back. He should be as suspicious if he seems the two of us behind him, because we had our backs to him in the pub, whereas the two of you were facing him."

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, pulling Tom to a stop as he moved to grab the invisibility cloak and slip under it. "What happens if he does apparate, and Tom and I grab him. We'll be separated."

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Then at least the two of you will have him. But, you're right. We'll have a meeting place. If he does apparate, we'll meet you two in—"

"In Paris, at the Eiffel Tower!" Hermione said quickly, noticing the man was getting further and further away from them. "France is at least bordering Germany, which is where I assume he'd be apparating, and you can't miss it! Be safe!" Was her last command before Tom dragged her under the cloak and hurried to catch up with him.

"Talk about paranoid," Tom breathed, after the German man had looked behind him for an eleventh time. "You don't think he knows we're here, do you?" Hermione did not immediately register what Tom had said. Her eyes were glued to the prominent bulge that could be seen at the front of the man's shirt.

"No," Hermione she answered after a moment. "This cloak is infallible."

The man reached the end of the street, and Hermione felt her stomach clench in anticipation. This was it, either they'd have to grab him last minute or—

Suddenly, the man whirled, pointing his wand in Harry and Ron's direction, who were about twenty feet away. He cast a spell it German, and Hermione watched as the light hurled in their direction. Harry brought a shield up in the last moment, and deflected it quickly, both of the boys now drawing their wands. Hermione made to remove the cloak, but Tom stopped her. "Just wait," he whispered, his wand drawn. "If the two of them can handle him, then we won't have to reveal ourselves."

Although there were two of them, it became fairly clean in a matter of minutes that this man was a very capable wizard. He dueled vehemently, as if his life depended on it, and she wondered just how high in Grindelwald's ranks he was.

Seeming to sense an opportunity, Tom lifted the cloak, just enough to get his wand out, and muttered, _"Stupefy_."

The man, not expecting the spell, was knocked backwards, his wand flying out of his hand, and Harry quickly summoned. "Hurry, take him into the alley, where we can't be seen." Tom levitated him into the alley, leaning him up against a dumpster. Harry moved to wake him up, but Tom hissed, "Wait! _Immobulus._"

"_Ennervate." _The man's eyes rapidly flew open, and he started to curse at them, spit flying from his mouth. His eyes flitted over to his wand, which was in Harry's hand, and he promptly froze.

"We need to ask you a few questions," Harry started, pointing his wand at the man's chest. "Starting with that there, around your neck."

He glared up at them, the hatred in his eyes so plain and intense that it was almost frightening. "I vill not speak. You cannot make you. You are just children, trying to play like adults. But you vill soon learn zat ze adult vorld can come vith more pain zan you vould care to imagine. "

"We don't have time for your petty threats," Harry said coldly, reaching down and ripping the medallion from his neck. "Where did you get this, and why do you have it? And don't feed me any lies—I can do a Cruciatus just as well as the next man."

Hermione saw a momentary flash of fear in the man's eyes. "It belongs to my master. I vas holding it for safe-keeping. He trusts me, you see. I purchased ze medallion at a—"

Before the man could say another word, his body started to tremble violently, and blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. Hermione watched, horrified, as his eyes rolled backwards in his head. Was he having a seizure? His eyelids were twitching, and he seemed to have no control over his limbs—

—And then he laid perfectly still, his eyes half-lidded and mouth hanging open, blood still oozing from between his lips. Hermione could hear her own breathing, but she didn't seem to be able to slow it down.

"Is—is he dead?" she whimpered, horrified.

Tom ran a hand over his cold face. "It was a curse. Whatever he was about to tell us, apparently his _master _didn't want us to know."

The four of them stood in silence for a moment, just staring down at the man, before Ron said, "Well, at least we've got the medallion—"

All of a sudden, the air around them seemed to explode. Curses were flying over their heads, and Hermione dove to the ground, feeling Tom's shield expand to surround the four of them. All too soon, though, it shattered and then were once again under attack—there were simply too many of them. Hermione could hardly see through all of the dust, but as three of their attackers came into view, she noticed that they all wore the same dark robes, with the same insignia in the top right-hand corner—Grindelwald's insignia.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed at the dark-haired boy, who was casting violently at Grindelwald's men, his face contorted with pure rage. "Ron! Tom!" The three of them moved towards her, Harry and Tom casting shields strong enough to hold the men off, even just for a moment, and then both simultaneously reached for Hermione. Ron grasped Harry's arm, and—

She felt the familiar sensation of having all the air in her lungs promptly sucked out, before the four of them landed with a splash in the water. She coughed as she inhaled a lungful of water, her eyes squinting shut, kicking furiously. She heard the boys coughing and spluttering on either side of her, and she grabbed both of their arms and started to drag them towards the shore. She could see Tom ahead of them, his dark hair sopping wet.

When they finally scrambled up onto shore, Ron rounded on her, his clothes dripping and blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the _bloody _hell were you thinking, Hermione! You just apparated us into the ruddy ocean—"

"_Actually, _it's the English Channel, _Ronald_," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes and slipping off her jacket to ring it out.

"—We could've drowned! Do you think you honestly just did us any good, when—"

"She just saved your ruddy, life, Hurst, so I suggest you shut your useless trap!" Riddle snarled, and Ronald's mouth promptly closed, staring at him in shock. Not waiting for the boy to respond, Riddle trudged forward, muttering, "C'mon" to Hermione as he passed her, and she hurried to follow him.

They walked in silence, no one willing to address what had just happened. Finally Harry, dodging the splashes of water that flew from the ends of Tom's hair as he shook it out, fell into step with Hermione, and asked gently, "Where are we anyway, love?" She smiled softly, appreciating the fact that he was trying to make up for Ron's rudeness.

"Le Havre," she answered. "—About one hundred and twenty miles from Paris." She glanced apologetically at the three of them. "It was the first place I thought of. I figured, since it was close to Germany, and I'd been here before, so I thought I could do it without anyone getting splinched—"

"It's absolutely fine, Hermione," Tom told her, patting her shoulder comfortingly. She frowned slightly as they continued to walk. She wondered what had happened so drastically in their months here that it would be Ron she was fighting with and Tom who was comforting her. "There is something we need to discuss though." From his robes, he withdrew the medallion, which was glistening strangely against the palm of his hand. "We've got the medallion. We have our _proof _here that there were means of getting into Hogwarts, but—"

"But you feel as though the evidence isn't enough," Hermione finished for him, and he nodded slowly. "I think—I think we need to go to Germany. We've found the medallion, sure, but without proof that whoever was using it was an accomplice of Grindelwald, the Ministry will never take our word for it."

"First, however," Tom interrupted, "We _must _find out where Grindelwald's headquarters are." He glanced down at his watch, and then up towards the street signs, which were written in French, and then translated below in English. "And I think I know _just _the person we need."

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**A/N: Ah! I think we're actually-kind-of-sort-of-maybe-not-really-semi-near the end! I really am enjoying writing a story where the characters actually go places and do exciting things! I kind of like writing for the mystery genre, it's fun!** **Thanks so much again for the continued support, and I'll remind you pretty please not to flame:)**

**Lots of love!**


	9. The Anti-Cliche

**A/N: Hey guys! Another quick update, so I hope it isn't too shabby, but I'm rushing like crazy to get it all done before the end of my winter break.**

**WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF FLUFF! Call it...an excerpt, if you will...or a late Christmas present...don't hate me 0.0**

**Disclaimer: Joanne owns**

**Enjoy!;)**

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Chapter Nine—The Anti-Cliche

Tom had apparated them—with extreme focus and, Hermione had to admit—tremendous talent—to the Place de la Concorde, which, he told them, Slughorn had brought him to the summer after his third year to show him the site of the infamous guillotine.

"I don't understand how you did it," Hermione was still mumbling, ten minutes later, her voice thick with envy as Tom led them down the crowded streets, obviously looking for something. "You haven't been here in four years—that sort of apparition is difficult even on grown wizards, let alone a—"

"Yes, yes, Macmillan, we all know you think I'm bloody brilliant, now would you hush up a moment?" Hermione smiled, partly at the pure self-obsession in his tone, and partly at the good-natured tone of voice he had used, even in chastising her.

"What are we looking for again, Riddle?" Ron asked, struggling to keep up. Whoever—or whatever—Tom was looking for must have excited him, because his long legs were moving at a pace that the shorter three were having a hard time keeping.

"Madam Cassandra's," he told him absently, his eyes flitting over each of the shops. "And it should be—_ah hah!" _

Without another word, he disappeared into a small shop squeezed in between a shop for wizarding robes and a shop for witches' lingerie. Hermione blushed and followed him inside quickly after, avoiding looking much at the latter shop.

The inside of Madam Cassandra's was dimly lit, and beads hung in ever doorway, obscuring Hermione's vision. Exotic rugs hug on the walls, and dream catchers were strung about the ceiling like ornaments. Tom had disappeared, but she could hear his voice, in the back, talking animatedly with someone that Hermione could not see.

Tom stuck his head through one of the beaded doorways, waving her back. She had never seen his eyes look so bright before. "Oi! Hermione, come back here a moment! There's a woman I want you to meet."

In the deep recesses of her mind, Hermione felt her stomach twinge. Tom seemed cheery—which, on its own, was a strange occurrence. What if this woman was a love interest of his or some gorgeous Belgian model with flowing hair and an hourglass figure—?

Hermione shook her head, mentally slapping herself. _Why did she care?_

She pushed back the beads, and saw Tom seated in front of a circular table. On top of the table sat a huge glass ball, smoke drifting eerily across its transparent surface. On the other side of the table sat an older woman. Her hair was a deep black, and reached her lower back, but Hermione could see strands of grey throughout. She seemed to have aged relatively well, as her skin was not heavily wrinkled, save for the heavy lines around her mouth, insinuating that she smiled often. Her eyes, though, were what stunned Hermione. Her eyes were a deep, dark familiar shade of green.

"Cassandra Trelawney." Hermione said, without her brain really having decided to speak. The woman studied her unabashedly, her eyes wandering over her form in an analytical sort of way, and Hermione felt her face heat up. Finally, she spoke.

"She's almost as intelligent as you, Tom, I can tell," she said, tilting her head towards the boy and smiling kindly at Hermione, who couldn't help but smile back.

Tom's gaze shifted to Hermione, and a small smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "Almost," he said quietly, and she arched an eyebrow back at him. "But not quite."

Cassandra's eyes skirted over Hermione and zeroed in on Harry, who stood behind her chair. "Ah, this is refreshing."

Harry frowned, still looking uncertain of the woman. "What's refreshing, exactly?"

She stood, moving around the table and placing a hand on Harry's chest. "Your heart—it's so pure. Unlike many that I come into contact with, you truly only wish to make others around you happy. There is no selfishness within your soul." Her eyes lifted to where the scar on his forehead, which McGonagall had long since covered with magic, sat. "You were born to do great things, Harry—and you have….and you will."

She said no more to him, moving back to her seat and leaving Harry looked mystified and slightly mesmerized. "Now Tom, darling," she reached across the table and placed her hand over his, and Hermione was surprised that he allowed this. Tom had never been an affectionate person, but then, Hermione had never seen him act the way he did around Trelawney with anyone else. "What have you come to me for?"

"Do you recall my friends Abraxas, Edward, and Niles, whom I had you look upon in your crystal ball?"

Cassandra smiled fondly. "Of course; they are in grave danger."

"They are," Tom confirmed solemnly. "And our only chance of helping them is if we find the person who broke into Hogwarts, the person who was wearing this medallion." With that, he withdrew the medallion from within his robes and delicately handed it to her.

"The medallion of Salazar Slytherin himself," she muttered, not looking at all surprised. "Dangerous, but powerful." She handed it back to him with care. "It calls for you. Even as I hold it in my hand, I sense that its allegiance is to that of Slytherin's blood." She stared at him for a second more. "What is it you wish me to do, my young Tom?"

He stared at her intently. "I need you to tell me who inside the castle broke the wards."

She stared back at him, weighing two options heavily in her mind. Finally, she laid a bejeweled hand on the crystal ball. "Tom, I cannot tell you who broke the wards of your castle."

He sighed, seeming to have expected this answer, and frowned at the floorboards, but Cassandra put two fingers under his chin, tilting his face towards her once more. "But I _can _lead you to your answers." He nodded slowly, uncertainly, and she rose. Hermione barely restrained rolling her eyes, wondering what antics she would use: the crystal ball, palm reading, tea leaves—

"Go to Nurmengard; you shall find your answers there, not with one of the prisoners, but with one of the guards themselves. From there, you shall set out on the last leg of your journey, back to Hogwarts, to confront the _real _traitor." She paused, looking at the four of them very seriously all of a sudden. "At Nurmengard, you'll find no dementors, nor dark creatures of your deepest nightmares, but you will discover the true meaning of fear, and betrayal, and the time will come, for each of you, to decide between doing what is right, and what is easy."

She reached out a hand, pointing two ringed fingers towards Hermione. "The truth is going to hurt you, Ms. Macmillan." Hermione's lips parted, and her brows furrowed in confusion. "But you must remember, above all, to think with your head, rather than your heart." She turned her focus on Tom. "Learn from the mistakes of those before you, Tom, but, most of all, observe and fulfill, before you lose your opportunity." Hermione glanced at Tom, but he seemed to understand what she was saying, judging by the deep frown lines that marred his handsome face. "You'd all best be going."

Tom and Hermione stood, both looking rather put out by Trelawney's predictions, and Harry and Ron stared at them skeptically. Before they could leave, however, Trelawney turned at the last minute and said, "Oh!—and if you all should like you're welcome to the brooms sitting just outside the door—I happened to have four of them handy." She winked, and Hermione couldn't help but grin, feeling her sour mood vanish.

She lifted the broom that sat in the waiting room, suddenly feeling very frightened about flying on her own.

"Oh, and Tom!" Trelawney called him into the back room once more, and Hermione perked her ears, trying desperately to hear what she was telling him, but their words were muffled. She hastily looked away when he re-emerged, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping, but did not miss the faint tinge of pink that adorned Tom's cheeks.

"What did she say?" Hermione asked curiously.

He wouldn't even look at her. "Absolutely none of your business, Macmillan."

She huffed, following the boys out of the shop, before asking quite suddenly, "What's the date?"

Harry frowned, counting the days on his hands. "Erm….December 18th—no, December 19th."

Hermione mentally shuffled the days about in her head. "It's the tenth day, then, yeah? We have a week and a day left. Eight days to get all the way to Southeastern Germany, break into a high-security prison and find a man that we have absolutely no information on. How are we supposed to—"

"Calm down, Mione," Harry said soothingly, hearing the hysteria in her tone. "That's plenty of time! Remember, we flew from Alexandria to Greece in a matter of hours, and this is much closer, and we're flying over land. We'll be in Germany by tomorrow, Nurmengard the next day and home with five days to spare!"

Riddle rolled his eyes. "Sure, because it's _always _that easy, Macmillan…" Harry gave him a dirty glare over Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione glanced around them, seeming to be in a better mood already. "So, we really aren't in a hurry at all, are we?" The three of them stared dubiously at her. "Well, it's just….I haven't been in France since my parents—since the war started, and I wanted to maybe take a look around—"

"Hermione—" Harry warned, looking uncertain.

"Oh, Harry, c'mon, just for a little bit! The Eiffel Tower is really close to here! Beside, it's almost dark out, and it probably isn't that safe flying all the way to Germany during the nighttime, especially with a war going on, so perhaps we should just stay here for the night, and leave bright and early tomorrow morning." Harry said nothing, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"She makes a good point," Tom said slowly. "We'll be flying over war zones at two in the morning if we leave tonight. They could see us in the air and potentially shoot us down for fear of attack. It'd be much safer to travel by day, that way we can actually see what's going on—"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, you've made you point," Ron grumbled, waving him off. "We'll get an inn for the night, and leave early tomorrow morning. But I don't want to hear any complaints about getting up tomorrow at the crack of dawn."

"Yes, Ron, because _we're _the ones that always complain about getting up early," Hermione snickered, rolling her eyes.

Harry, being the darling brother he was, got the lot of them an room at an inn on Allee Adrienne Lecouvreur, so close to the tower than Hermione was nearly wetting herself. She hadn't been to Paris since three summers before she had sent her parents off to Australia, so it was practically like a first time for her. She had forgotten how classy all of the little restaurants were; the smell of the food and the elegance of the hotels.

"It's too bloody crowded," Ron muttered grumpily as he bumped into another person passing him on the street.

"I feel like we're being irresponsible," Harry whined, paranoid as he looked around at the hundreds upon hundreds of faces surrounding them.

"I'm trying my best to ignore them," Hermione informed Tom, rubbing her temples agitatedly.

"Ms. Macmillan not so eager to get back to work?" Tom teased, and Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him. She had never seen him so cheerful since they had met; ever since they had arrived in this country, there seemed to be a glow about him—his eyes seemed brighter, his temper wasn't a quick, and every time he looked her, Hermione felt a bubble building in her stomach just waiting to—

Okay, so maybe the city _was _getting to her.

"I just feel like we're so…._close_, and….and I don't want to jinx it by saying that, but I think everyone needs a break once in a while. We've been pouring our hearts and souls into this mission, and when we get back, whether we succeed or not, it's going to feel like there's nothing left of it."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes hiding whatever he was thinking. "I'm not going to feel like there's nothing left of it," he said slowly, as if he were choosing his words with care." She stared back at him, trying to figure out what he meant by that; those simple words, they implied so little, but so _much. _

"It's getting late, you two," Harry called from behind them. "Shall we grab a bite to eat, and then head back to the inn?"

Hermione agreed quickly, her mind still pondering what Riddle had said. Her thoughts were wandering all throughout supper, and even as they returned back to the inn, she still couldn't focus on anything that was going on around her. As she lay in bed, tossing and turning, she couldn't help but look back on these past few months. It seemed like she had learned so little about Tom Riddle, and yet, she knew him like the back of her hand. She couldn't figure him out at times, and, at others, she could read him like an open book.

"Psst! _Hermione!" _Hermione jerked away, realizing that she had been drifting in and out of sleep. She blinked her eyes tiredly, stretching her arms over her head, and stifled a gasp when she realized Tom was hovering a few inches over her, his eyes watching her unblinkingly. "You want to go on a date?"

She blinked again, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Surely, she must have misheard him. "Er…._huh?_"

He laughed quietly, grabbing her hand and nearly pulling her out of bed. "Just come on!" She snatched her wand up from beneath her pillow and slipped on her sweatshirt, following in Tom's suit and grabbing her broom.

Once they were outside the inn, the cold winter air bit and Hermione's skin and she shivered, watching her breath hang in mid-air in front of her. "W-w-where are we g-g-going?" she shivered, and he flicked his wand over her, casting a warming charm.

"It's a surprise," he muttered, not looking at her. She frowned, halting her steps and crossing her arms over her chest. He stopped too, turning back to look at her with an exasperated expression.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, I will not take another step forward until you tell me where we're going!"

He rolled his eyes, stepping under the light of the street lamp with her. "C'mon, Hermione, are you _honestly _going to ruin the surprise? Just have fun with it." She bit her lip, studying his face callously, but before she could agree or disagree, he slipped his hand into hers and pulled her along.

They stopped nearly fifteen minutes later, and Hermione was breathless with realization. She peered at him from behind a few loose curls, her lips curling slightly, though she tried to hide it.

"But Tom, it's closed."

"The lifts are closed," he informed her, smirking, but Hermione could detect the faintest blush in his normally-pale cheeks. "But if someone were to, say, _fly _up there…"

"Oh, but, Tom, I'm a terrible flier—" Hermione protested weakly, suddenly very frightened.

"Relax, it's only…..three hundred and twenty feet." The devilish smirk he gave her certainly was not meant to be reassuring, but, without another word, he threw his legs over his broom and shot upwards, until all Hermione could see was his outline against the sky. Swallowing thickly, she stepped over the broomstick, holding on as tightly as she could as it lifted off the ground. She directed it slowly upwards, terrified of sliding off the back, and let out a small whimper as the broom climbed higher and higher and higher—

Tom was waiting and the top, and as her broom came to hover over the platform, he lifted her easily off of it, chuckling at the mewling noise she seemed to be emitting. "Oh relax, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

She shook her head, and then, remembering that she had to fly back down, groaned.

She leaned her broom against the wall and followed Tom to the railing. He leaned against the rails, his arms crossed in front of him, eyes contentedly sweeping over the lit-up city. "The structure itself is actually quite ugly, up close," he told her nonchalantly. "—All grey and stannic; but the view is worth it."

Hermione had to agree. She leaned against the railing too, their arms brushing as she took in the enormity of their surroundings, how organized and chaotic it looked all at once. She felt a sudden sense of appreciation wash over her. Here she and Tom were, getting to enjoy this at a time which no one else could.

They stood for a while in a comfortable silence, neither of them speaking, just seeming content with the reticence.

Hermione glanced at Tom, his dark hair falling across his forehead, and he had never looked so handsome. She remembered thinking this a time before, but, certainly, this time overshadowed all others. "Thank you for this, Tom," she said softly. "You don't know what it means to me."

He looked at her for a moment, before smirking and saying, "Actually, I think I do. That's why I did it you see. I'm a natural charmer—I know how to get in everyone's good graces."

She rolled her eyes, looking away from him, surprised, to find that she was irritated with his lack of serious. Why were boys always serious when you want to fool around and fooling around when you wanted to be serious?

"But," he added after a moment, and Hermione realized he must have seen the look on her face. "If it's all the same to you—you're welcome. It was my pleasure, actually."

Hermione's eyes followed him as he reached above his head and released a loud yawn. "You know Hermione," he said, doing his best to sound casual. "Often, women get these romantic notions that they could share a kiss with the man they fancy on top of the Eiffel Tower. They consider it 'romantic', apparently." Tom's eyes were twinkling as he looked at her, and Hermione knew she shouldn't—she really shouldn't—but it was just too tempting. She should keep her mouth shut, look away, say something else—

Nope, the temptation was too strong. She smiled brightly and nodded in gratitude.

"Well thanks, Riddle! I'll keep that in mind if I ever come up here with a bloke I fancy!"

His jaw dropped, and Hermione felt a childish sort of triumph wash through her. The look of utter disbelief—mixed with just a _tinge_ of admiration, she could tell—was too brilliant to regret saying what she had. Riddle's mouth opened and closed several times before he finally managed to gather his pride and simply look away, his gaze zeroing in on one of the buildings directly across the way.

Still giggling, she said, "I'm sorry, Tom. You _know _I had to—it was simply too tempting to resist."

He smiled at her, and the smile slid off Hermione's face. His eyes were glinting in a predatorial sort of way, and he backed her against the rail, his arms encasing her on either side. "That's alright," he murmured, brushing her hair back, his fingertips making her neck tingle. "I know _all _about temptation." Involuntarily, her eyes flickered down to his lips, and then back up to meet his gaze. He wasn't going to—no, he wouldn't possibly—

"And, Hermione," he whispered, and she let out an embarrassingly loud sigh and his lips began to leave a trail of fire down her neck, making her clutch at his hair. "I just wanted to let you know….." He ran a hand down her waist, gripping her hip and drawing her closer to him. Hermione could hear her heart pounding so loud that she was afraid it would burst from within her chest. "That I….." He tilted his head, his lips so close to hers that she could feel his breath against her mouth, and if she leaned forward, _just so—" _Am not going to kiss you on top of the Eiffel Tower." He released her hips and backed away from her all too suddenly, and Hermione would swear on her life that she almost topples over the top floor right then and there. She blinked dizzily, feeling a sudden loss of warmth, and tried to grapple desperately for what happened. Sharply, Tom's last words registered in her mind.

She whirled on his, glaring so fiercely that she was sure that he was quite glad that looks could not literally kill. "You—you—"

His smirk was so large that she was certain that _the Titanic _could both sail and sink on it. "Yes, it is me."

"_You tease_!" She shrieked, infuriated, and Tom let out a bark of laughter. "How dare you—you—do that to me and then just leave me—standing there like a fool—"

Her ranting followed them all the way back down the tower. She was so angry that she did not even have time to be afraid of the ride down. As they landed on the ground beneath the tower, Hermione threw her broom down angrily; making to stomp off in a dramatic way, but Tom grabbed her wrist, spun her towards him, and pressed his mouth firmly against her own.

It took Hermione a full fifteen seconds to realize what was happening, before she tentatively brought her arms around his neck. She felt Tom smile against her mouth at her uncertainty, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and setting her on the short stone wall behind her and situating himself between her legs. Hermione felt herself reddening, feeling like an inexperienced little schoolgirl next to Tom, who _obviously _knew what he was doing, but as she felt his tongue trace along the seam of her lips, she stopped thinking and let natural instinct take over.

When they finally broke apart, Tom's hair resembled Harry's more than his own, and Hermione's cheeks and lips were both a deep red. He leaned his forehead against hers as they both focused on catching their breath.

"We should go back," Tom said finally. Wordlessly, she rose, slipped her hand into his, retrieved her fallen broom, and together, the two of them made their way back to the inn. The walk back was a quiet one, but the silence was not disagreeable. Every few minutes, Tom would lean down and press a kiss to her lips. Hermione felt like she didn't know what was happening. Normally, she hated not being in control, but for once, she accepted it, and, breathing deeply as she leaned into Tom's shoulder, she felt like she could think clearly for the first time in a while

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**A/N: There we are! I would shoot for another update tonight, but its midnight where I am, and I have practice tomorrow morning at 8:30am, and I don't really wanna die at practice, so I'm gonna call it quits, alright? No flames, por favor:)**

**Thanks so much my darlings!**

**Lots of love!**


	10. LK Kirkland

**A/N: Alright guys! I think this is going to be like the third-to-last chapter or so (besides the epilogue and excerpts and such)! This has been an amazing, and long ride, and I hope ya'll are still enjoying it! No flames!**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all familiar concepts**

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Chapter Ten—L.K. Kirkland

The morning air was bitter against Hermione's skin, and her hair whipped around her face as she held the broom steady beneath her. Far below, the rolling hills and deep forests seemed endless, and she could hardly tell one area from another.

"If it weren't for the fact that they had produced the most evil wizard of all time," Ron called over the wind, "I would call Germany the most beautiful country I'd ever seen." Hermione begged to differ; not on the latter, but the former. Grindelwald was _not _eviler than Voldemort.

"That's Heilbronn!" Harry told them informatively. He and Ron swept closer to Hermione and Tom so that they could talk without having to shout over the wind. "We're getting very close. Now when we get there, we have to be ready to face either dementors or wizard guards, but whichever, I don't think we should just barge in and attack."

"Yes, because that's always such a brilliant idea," Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes. Harry ignored him.

"From what I've read, Nurmengard is surrounded by high walls. There are anti-apparition wards, but perhaps if he could lower them—"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione scorned. "We can't lower the wards—even for a moment, that would alert them of our presence. We're going to have to do this the old fashion way."

"Which is?"

Hermione smirked. "I've got a plan. We won't know our way around very well, but I _did _bring a few books on Nurmengard and Germany, and I've been doing some light reading, so I think I've got the general idea. Judging by what I've read, the fortress itself isn't guarded very heavily—the wall is enough to keep everyone in or out."

"But that's just the problem then, Mione," Harry argued. "If this wall is so might, and it can keep high-security prisoners in, then how are _we _supposed to get through it?"

She tapped her temple with her wand. "Don't forget Harry; we have wands—they don't."

He frowned. "I'm under the impression that you know more than you're telling."

"Just follow my lead; whichever route we take, we'll end up at the same place."

Tom was staring hard at his knuckles, which were pale around the tip of his broom. He looked up at her, and she could see that he had an idea of exactly what she was thinking. "Are you sure?" he breathed, his brows drawn together seriously.

She grimaced, shaking her head. "No, but what other chance do we have?"

Hermione had them land about eight miles away from the prison itself. She handed each of the boys darker robes, which they quickly pulled on, and led them towards a dark street named '_Bayernstraße_'.

"The prison itself sits at the foot of lake, _Großer Dutzendteich_," she told them quietly. A hush seemed to have fallen over the four of them; they had all seemed to realize that this was a defining moment in their journey. "We're going to take a short trek through the forest for a bit, so that we come out near the far edge of the wall, where there is a smaller population of guards."

Hermione's "short trek" turned out to be more like a marathon. Nearly four hours later, the four of them emerged from out of the thick, perspiring heavily and hair matted with mud and sweat. They stared, slack-jawed at the huge stone wall, which had to stand at least twenty-five feet tall; springing up from the top of the wall were very tall, very formidable-looking iron spikes. "There's no way in hell—" Ron began, but Hermione cut him off.

"We aren't going over it." At the boys' baffled expressions, she gave them a wry smile, before casting a Disillusionment charm and hurrying across the clearing, disappearing before they could follow her movements.

"What the-?" Ron bumbled, but Tom shushed him. "C'mon!" The three of them hurried across the clearing after her. They found Hermione a few feet beneath them, knee-deep in murky-looking water. She had removed her Disillusionment, and she stared up at the three of them.

"Water ducts," she explained, and immediately saw the understanding click in Tom's eyes. He jumped down into the pool of water with her, withdrawing his wand from his robes and tapping it against the bars of the grate.

"Iron," he murmured, before turning to Hermione. "After we break it, we should use the bubble-head charm to get to shore. If we have to bob up for air every six seconds, someone's bound to notice us. Hermione nodded, and both of them raised their wands, pointing them at the bars.

"_Confrigo!" _Hermione whispered, watching in satisfaction as the bars bent, just a little bit.

"_Defodio!" _Tom hissed, and several deep groves appeared in the metal.

"_Diffindo!"_

_ "Expulso!"_

_ "Incendio!"_

_ "Reducto!"_

Tom wiped his brow, lifting his wand and casting the final spell at the bars, which was hanging off by a hinge. "_Deprimo_." A powerful wind burst from his wand, pushing the bars off their hinge and sending them flying backwards, landing with a splash in the water. He cast the bubble-head charm on Hermione, and then on himself, and dove through the water duct, disappearing into the murky water. After making sure the boys were following, she dove in after him. It wasn't a long swim before they reached the shore. The four of them disillusioned themselves and sat on the bank, catching their breath.

After a moment, Harry said, "That was brilliant, Mione." She blushed prettily, looking away.

"Oh, it was nothing. I only knew because of all the reading I've done on Nurmengard."Harry pulled her to her feet. "So I think two of us should go under the invisibility cloak, and go through the front, while the other two disillusion themselves and sneak in through the back."

"Right, Mione and I will go under the cloak through the front, and we'll head up to the guards' offices, to look for whoever we're supposed to be looking for. Ron and Tom, you two go around the back, but _watch out for guards_. It isn't safe to be wandering around simply disillusioned—"

"We don't have any other option, Macmillan." Tom reminded him, suddenly looking irritated. "Just…look for the highest ranking officer you can find. I don't think we should interrogate them unless we can get them alone."

"Do you think we can?" Hermione asked him.

He turned his gaze on her, and she fought off the blush that threatened to rise to her cheeks. "I think you and your brother can, with that cloak of yours," he told her. "But only if you wait for the opportune moment."

"Opportune moment," she mentally noted. "Got it—now c'mon, before it gets too late." Harry pulled her under the cloak, and the two of the made their way around the fortress, clambering over the sides of the bridge and moving towards the huge front doors. Two guards stood on either side of them, and the brother and sister froze, quieting their breathing. "How are we supposed to open the door without them noticing?" Hermione whispered. Looking around, Harry tapped her on the shoulder and pointed. When she didn't get it, he led her over to the other end of the bridge, where a series of stones were strewn about. Picking one up, Harry waited till both of the guards weren't looking, and then threw it with all his might. The stone bounced off the far wall and landed with a splash in the water.

"Vat vas zat? The shorter guard asked his companion, and when the man didn't reply, he moved towards the end of the bridge, peering out at the water. Harry and Hermione edged around him, and, with a quick flick of her wand, Hermione muttered, "_Obscuro_." A blindfold shot out of her wand and wrapped itself around the second guard's eyes. With a yelp, he grappled with the piece of cloth, ripping it away from his eyes, not noticing the heavy wooden door opening and shutting in a matter of seconds.

From the other side of the door, Harry and Hermione heard the guards arguing. "Vat did you do zat for!" The second guard shouted at the first guard.

"Vat are you talking about? I vas over here, you blizering idiot, not near you!" The two men continue to bicker, and Harry and Hermione stifled their laughter, looking around the entrance hall of the fortress.

"Looks sort of ominous," Harry said quietly, and he was not wrong. Spiral staircases ascended on either side of the room, and a huge grey statue was the centerpiece of the room. It depicted a young man, with a charming smile and curly hair.

"Well it can't be said that he isn't vain," Hermione snorted, glancing at the statue one more time before leading Harry up the staircase on the left. To her left, a long hallway disappeared into the darkness, and she could see that the same was true at the top of the staircase on her right. But in between the two of them on a platform was a single straight staircase, the end of it swallowed up by the darkness above.

"Let's go this way," Harry said in a low voice, pointing up the staircase. Hermione resisted to urge to light the tip of her wand, and followed Harry up into the darkness. They came to a long hallway, each door labeled with an initial and a last name.

"Good guess," Hermione told him. "The left and right must have been prison cells, and these must be the guard's quarters." The hallway was very long, and Hermione was certain that they had passed at least thirty doors before they came to the end of the hall, where a single door sat, facing them, embellished with a golden name plate.

_General L.K. Kirkland_

Just as Harry's hand closed around the doorknob, they heard voices from inside. Hermione leaned her head against the wood of the door, and realized that they were quarreling about something.

"What is irritating _me_, _Professor, _is that you seem much less concerned about the missing medallion, and much _more _concerned about the fact that the Lieutenant Colonel is dead." The scorn in his voice was cutting. "You do realize, I am sure, Professor that our Lord will not hesitate to kill once he learns of this."

"I understand zis, General," said the second man tiredly. He was German, and sounded quite a bit older than the first man, and twice as weary. "I am not inclined to like to you ven I tell you zat I do not have ze slightest idea how zey got away. Zey vere surrounded by our men, but zey managed to apparate. Our men scoured ze area, but zey had vanished completely." With a jolt, Hermione realized that the two men were talking about _them._

"Grindelwald is already unhappy with my failure to seize Hogwarts—"

"Perhaps if you hadn't sent a child to do a man's job…" Both Hermione and Harry's ears perked at this, and they shared a bewildered look.

"He did just as he was supposed to do, flawlessly—"

"He vill be killed, Luther, as vill you. Grindelvald does not appreciate deficiency, and now zat you've lost ze medallion, you have squandered his only opportunity to defeat Dumbledore once and for all—"

"I will not listen to this any longer, Saramun!" the younger man snapped.

After a beat, the older man sighed, and they could hear the scratching of his chair against the floor as he rose, gathering his papers into his arms and moving to leave. Just as he stood in front of the door, however, he paused, without turning around, and said, "Zat curse killed my son. I vant it removed from everyone in your ranks."

The coldness in the General's voice was terrifying. "_Your son _was about to speak that which he should not be speaking of." The Professor flung open the door and Hermione and Harry took their chance. They dove through the door just as it snapped shut, and stood silently against the wall, observing the agitated man.

He sat in front of his desk, his face in his hands. Hermione studied him, now that they got a chance to get a good look at him. His hair was a dirty blonde, and Hermione's couldn't see a trace of grey in it, giving Hermione the impression that he was at least in his thirties or forties. His build was quite strong, and she could tell if he stood he'd tower over her. As he lifted his head from his hands and started to shuffle around the paperwork on his desk, Hermione noted that his eyes were a stormy shade of grey. _Those eyes seemed familiar-_

She grimaced as she watched the agility with which he moved, the surety of each little thing he did. It reminded her of Tom, and she immediately knew that this wouldn't be an easy fight."We need to make our move," Harry said, right next to her ear, yet so quietly that she almost missed it. "I need you to seal the door, so that no one can get in or out. I'll immobilize him." Hermione gave a swift nod, drawing her wand and aiming it at the door. "One, two…._three!" _

Harry flung the cloak off of them, and Hermione cast every locking charm she knew on the door. Briefly, she registered that Tom and Ron would not be able to help them, regardless of what they did, but she decided that was worth it. Whirling around, Hermione immediately knew something was wrong. Harry's curse had been deflected, and the General was standing, his wand drawn and face arranged into an amused expression.

"Oh, what a pleasant surprise," he said in a friendly voice, and Hermione immediately raised her wand defensively, not liking the smile on his face. "I thought I heard someone it here, but I couldn't be certain." He walked around his desk, his arms folded behind his back as if they were having a pleasant conversation about the weather. He nodded towards the door. " Very clever of you, warding the door. I'll bet you're the Ravenclaw, young lady?"

Hermione faltered, her brows drawing together in confusion. "How do you—"

"I've got some very reliable sources. In fact, I'm afraid I've been one step ahead of you the entire little game. I knew you were coming, you see, so I decided to set up the perfect little trap for my lovely little students."

"You're lying," Harry snarled. "You know we've got you beat. The rooms warded, and no one can help you, and we've got two wands to your one."

"Very good, Potter. I'm most impressed." Hermione felt her blood run cold, and next to her Harry had blanched. The General smiled at their reactions. "Oh, _yes_, I know _all _about your little time-traveling stunt. I did say my sources were reliable, didn't I?"

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," Harry fumbled, seeming to grow more and more disturbed by the moment. He chuckled, pacing in front of them.

"_Yes, _Potter. When my source informed me of your immediate appearance, I found that I was intrigued to learn more about you, especially as he began to piece together the puzzle, and every once in a while, one of you would let something _slip_…." He laughed again, and the sound made Hermione's blood run cold "Well, anyway, he sent me some DNA samples—a few plucks of your hair, you fingerprints on a glass—and it wasn't too hard to do my research and match up my blood lines."

Hermione suddenly heard a series of footsteps, and she cocked her ears, trying to figure out where they were coming from, before she realizes that they were emitting from beneath the floor. There were a few moments of silence, and then three of the floorboards cracked open, revealing a trap door than Hermione would not have noticed otherwise. She watched in horror as four guards emerged from the door, dragging a very disgruntled looking Tom and Ron with them. Helplessly, Hermione sent a hex spiraling towards them, but the General easily summoned her and Harry's wands and tucked them away into a drawer. The guards lined up against the wall, and Hermione stared at the trap door with futile hope, before one of them kicked it shut, and she barely repressed a groan.

"Oh, look, familiar company!" the General teased, his eyes skirting over Tom's fierce glare. He glanced at Ron, grinning. "You must be the Weasley! You'd be intrigued to know that I had an interesting run in with your great-grandfather years ago." A sneer curled around his lips, distorting his handsome face. "I made sure his end was noble, as he would have wanted it."

"How much do you know?" Harry asked warily, keeping one eye on the General and one on Tom, who was now staring at the three of them with a sort of realization.

The General chortled, waving a hand of nonchalance in Harry's direction. "Only bits and pieces of information about yourselves that my source and I put together on our own. I'm not a seer, you know, so I know nothing of the outcome of the future, just that you—" He turned his grey-eyed gaze on Harry. "Have the blood of Potter within your veins, and that you," he turned, next, to Ron, whose face was red with anger, "Have the blood of Weasley, and that you," he shifted to look and Hermione, and she felt her chest clench up, threatening to choke her. "My little _Muggleborn_, may perhaps be the most gifted Mudblood I've ever seen."

I t did not matter how many time she had heard the word, how many times those Purebloods had thrown at her, she couldn't help the sting she felt in her gut each and every time. She couldn't bear looking at Tom's, whose eyes, she knew, were burning in search of hers. She could imagine the train that his thoughts were following now: _I, the invincible Heir of Slytherin, descendant of the great and powerful Salazar, kissed a filthy, lowly, disgusting Mudblood?_

"Surely, you must have heard how much we _adore _Mudbloods, here," he sneered at her. Drawing herself up to her full height, Hermione glared him down, her head tilted high.

"_Surely_, you must have heard how _little_ I care for the opinion of murderers and monsters."

"Oh, _don't _you, though?" the General said, smirking as his eyes flickered to Tom. "Don't you make a habit of associating with exactly those types of people?"

Tom growled, lunging towards him, but Hermione grabbed both of his arms, holding him back. After a moment of struggling, he gave up, shaking her hands off of him and not bothering to look at her. Hermione felt her heart give a little squeeze, and she turned away from him.

"Now, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to mutilate each of your bodies, one by one, and then send them back in beautifully wrapped coffins, with my best regards, to darling Dumbledore himself."

"Actually, I think it's more along the lines of: you're to get thrown in Azkaban, and _darling _Dumbledore will make sure that you never see the light of day again." Hermione's rage was boiling now. How _dare _he threaten them, this _coward _of a man—

He studied her for a moment, his grey eyes a strange mixture of hatred and curiosity. "Throw them in the dungeons," he said finally, waving them away. "—with the prisoners. And for Merlin's sake, will someone un-ward that stupid door!"

* * *

Hermione blinked blearily, her back aching from the uncomfortable sleeping position. Harry's head was in her lap, and Ron leaned against her shoulder. She glanced across the cell, seeing Tom sitting, wide away, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring out the barred window. As though he had felt her eyes on him, he turned to face her, his cold gaze making her shiver.

"Did you get any sleep?" she whispered to him. After appraising her for a moment longer, he shook his head, looking away. She sighed heavily, leaning her head against the wall. It had been like this for three days; they had been provided little food, lesser water, and Tom was still giving her that look. It was not a threatening look, necessarily, nor a hateful look, but simply a cold, empty, emotionless look.

Tired of this treatment, Hermione slid out from beneath Harry and Ron and sunk down on the ground beside him. He did not look at her, but she saw his shoulders tense slightly. She lined up their fingers next to each other on the floor. Their hands were so difference. Hers were small, but they had never been particularly delicate. She had large knuckles and short fingers. His, however, were huge, with long, pianist fingers and immaculately-kept nails. She glanced up at him.

"It isn't my fault," she said finally, her voice gentle and patient. "I can't control who I was born to, just like you can't control having a Muggle father."

"Shut up!" He hissed, his gaze turning hostile so quickly that she nearly leapt back, but instead shook her head slowly.

"No, _listen _to me. How was I supposed to know that when I was born, I was going to be born into two worlds, neither of which completely accepted me? I'm too odd for the magical world and too magical for the Muggle world; I don't fit in anywhere. But I can't help but be proud when I think about the fact that even though I parents can't do magic, I can out-duel half of the Purebloods in our school—"

He was quiet for a moment, before he spoke, still staring down at the aligned hands. "I don't care that you're a Muggleborn, Macmill—Hermione." She looked up at him sharply, surprise flickering over her face. "I might've cared two months ago, but you've proven to be much more than just a blood status….just like I did."

She peered at him questioningly, at he sighed. "My first year at Hogwarts….it was hell. The Slytherins all knew I was a half-blood—they weren't stupid, they knew Riddle was a Muggle name. They treated me like the scum under their shoes. I had to prove myself—and you've no idea how hard that is in a group of Pureblood Slytherins. I had to prove my heritage to them, my intelligence, my magical ability, for them to even begin to accept me. I have no disrespect for a Muggleborn who can prove herself superior to everyone around her."

Hermione felt a warm blush spreading from her neck and up her face. "So….so you don't hate me?"

He snorted, scuffing his shoe against the stone floor. "No, I sort of hate you, actually."

Her face fell, and he rolled his eyes and continued. "I hate you because everything I know about you is a lie. I—I'm not even certain who you are….I mean, _Merlin, _you're from the future!"

"I'm exactly the same person I was!" Hermione insisted. "Just under a different name." He studied her callously.

"And….what _is _that name?"

She cleared her throat, turning to face him in holding out a hand. "Hermione Jean Granger, pleased to meet you."

He chuckled as he took her hand. "Granger." He repeated, tasting it in his mouth. "Hermione Granger. Definitely has more of a ring to it." He paused, his expression suddenly turning serious. "Why did you come back, Hermione?"

She froze, peering into his deep eyes, her hands trembling. "I—I can't tell you that. It's not personal, it's just…..I don't want to destroy the future anymore than it already is."

He nodded slowly, and Hermione was shocked. Tom Riddle was never satisfied with not knowing all the answers. She stared at him, slightly awed, out of the corner of her eyes. But then, she thought, Tom Riddle had never admitted that he had respect for a Mudblood, either.

Tom was chuckling, and she glanced at him, frowning. "What?" She asked, watching as he shook his head, greatly amused by something.

Finally, he said, "Just my luck, of course. I never fancy a girl my entire life, and the first one I do is from the future." She ogled him for a moment, her jaw dropping at what he had just so blatantly admitted, before joining in his laughter, trying not to blush too much at the casual way that he slipped his hand into hers.

The door swung open, and one of the guards gruffly moved in set their trays of 'food' on the ground. Hermione saw Harry blink one eye open, and felt an immediate shift in the air. In one movement, Harry slid the food tray over towards himself, raised it above his head, and promptly smashed it down on the guard's head, knocking him unconscious. Ron awoke with a snort, and Hermione and Tom scrambled to their feet.

Harry was digging through the guard's robes, until he found what he was looking for. "Here!" he called, tossing Tom was redwood wand. "You're the best at spells—keep us covered." The three of the followed him out of the cell and down the hall. Already, they could hear guards hurrying to stop them; they had heard the commotion Harry had made in knocking the guard out.

"Under the cloak!" Harry hissed. "We can all fit; we just won't be able to move very quickly." The four of them slipped beneath the velvety fabric. Because Tom was so tall, their feet were practically visible, but they took no note of this.

"How come they didn't confiscate this from you, Harry?" Hermione realized suddenly, peering over her shoulder to look at the boy. His face suddenly turned very red and he smiled sheepishly.

"I—err—hid it in my trousers…..knew they wouldn't both looking there." Hermione's disgusted face was enough to make Harry and Ron laughed. As they reached the staircase, Ron started going down, while Tom made to go up.

"What are you doing?!" they said together, rounding on one another. "I'm going the right way!"

"The exit's this way, in case you had forgotten, Riddle," Ron hissed, glaring at the dark-haired boy fiercely. Harry dragged the three of them into a corner, wincing as the two boys' voices grew louder.

Tom sneered at him. "So eager to run, like a coward, Hurst, and you've already forgotten that we're missing something: _our evidence_."

"You kidding?" The redhead blustered. "D'you want to risk getting locked up again? We don't have time for this! We're just going to have to tell the Ministry wizards exactly what we know—they can even use Veritaserum—"

"They won't bother!" Tom snapped. "They don't _want _us to be right—_you _saw how Travers acted! They won't accept anything but cold hard facts."

"Fine, have it your way!" Ron snapped, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. "And you lot are with him, then?" He asked, nodding to Harry and Hermione. They shared a look, suddenly uncomfortable.

"He is _right_, Ron. Don't you think if we came all this way, and ran out at the last minute it would be an awful waste?"

"So, what are we going to do?" Harry whispered anxiously, hearing the pounding of the guards' footfalls above.

Tom twirled the wand thoughtfully in his hand. "I'm going to have to face him." He decided suddenly. "That's the _only _way he's going to comply—"

"Are you _mad?_" Hermione practically shrieked, not even letting him finish. "Tom, I know you're a brilliant wizard, but he's the general of an _army_. He knows his stuff. It isn't like dueling club—he could kill you!"

Tom smirked at her, stepping closer to her and leaning down so that they were nearly eye-level. "As…._touching_ as your concern my well-being is, _Hermione_, I'm afraid you simply can't convince me otherwise."

"You're being stupid!" She raged, punching him in the shoulder forcefully, even more irritated when he did not budge. "It's just you and your stupid pride—"

"Oh, it has nothing to do with the general himself," Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes. "His master has something that interests me greatly."

Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "Tom, _no!" _She grabbed his arm as he made to slip out from beneath the invisibility cloak. "You are _not _going to duel Grindelwald! You won't win, it's—"

He quite suddenly hushed her, pushing her against the wall and waiting in silence. Moments later, a group of six or so guards came around the corner, lined up in formation. Tom flicked his wand, sending three of this flying back into a wall, and before the other three could react, he knocked them unconscious.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked, his mouth open wide. "Do you have any idea how much noise you just made?"

Riddle turned to him, arching his eyebrow in such a way that made Harry feel rather stupid. "They have wands, do they not, Mr. Macmillan?"

"Oh—err—yeah, I s'pose—"

Before either of them could say another word, another group of guards came around the corner. Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly summoned the wands into their hands and began to duel with the guards. This group was only slightly more competent then the last, so they had them all unconscious in a matter of moments.

Rubbing her sweaty hands on her trousers, Hermione looked around and realized with a painful jolt that Tom had disappeared. "_Idiot_," she breathed, and, without a word to Harry or Ron, she raced up the stairs that she presumed he had taken.

Hermione heard voices, and she pressed herself against the wall, listening intently. She could only make out two figures in the hall, and she could wager a guess on who both of them were.

"You're very brave, boy. Grindelwald admires that sort of bravery—the type of man who knows that a job will only be done well if he does it himself." The sneer on the General's face was absent at the moment, replaced by a look of consideration as he studied Tom.

The younger boy laughed coldly. "It's a pity I don't follow anyone else's orders. I'm above that, you know."

"Naturally," the General said coolly. "Well, I suppose if you are not going to accept my offer, I am going to have to kill you and your little friends. Shame, really. You all would've made such good soldiers." He paused. "Especially your _pretty _little Mudblood." She saw Tom's shoulders tense, and fingered her wand, wondering if she should help him. He would not be pleased; he had seeked this out on his own and he would want to finish it on his own. She realized that the General was still speaking, and that Tom's form was growing more and more rigid with every word. "In fact, maybe I'll keep her alive. The guards are always grateful when I present them with a new…_toy_."

Hermione could not follow Tom's arm as he sent a hex towards the General, who easily deflected his, his teeth gleaming in the dim light as he grinned widely at Tom, who looked concentrated as he sent another spell at the General. This time, the older man actually stumbled, and his grin vanished.

"Fine, let's play."

Tom sent spells at him so fast that Hermione wondered if it was an illusion, but the General seemed to have no trouble keeping up. Hermione winced every time the older man shot out the familiar stream of green light, but it never came anywhere near Tom, who was all-too-good at avoiding death.

And then Tom threw the General off. "_Crucio!" _the Slytherin cast and it hit its mark. The General dropped his wand, groaning as he fell back against the wall, clawing at the stone. The smirk on Tom's face was chilling. Hermione knew that, even though many considered Grindelwald the most evil wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort was known for having the most painful and powerful torture curse.

Hermione stood from her hiding place and summoned the General's wand into her hand. Tom took no note of her; his eyes were glued to the man writhing on the floor, his face contorted in agony, such agony—

She placed one hand on his waist and the other on his shoulder. "Tom," she breathed into his ear, standing on her toes so she could reach. "Tom, that's enough. Knock him out and be done with it." For a moment, she thought he was going to ignore her—that he would torture him until….until…

But then he sighed, breaking the spell with a sharp wand movement and lowering his wand. The General lie on the floor, gasping, and Hermione could tell by his reaction that, unlike Lord Voldemort, Grindelwald didn't regularly practice dark spells on his followers. "_Stupefy,_" Tom murmured, looking annoyed.

Harry and Ron appeared at the end of the hallway. "Mione!" they shouted simultaneously. "You alright?"

"Fine," she said shortly.

Harry's eyes fell on the General. "Blimey," he gasped. "What did you _do _to him?"

"Just a very intense duel, is all," Hermione said quickly. "Then we knocked him out for good measure."

Tom looked sharply at her, raising his eyebrows questioningly, but she simply touched the back of his hand.

"Right," Harry said, nodding but not looking entirely convinced. "Well look, Ron and I got most of the guards out—we waited under the invisibility cloak and knocked them out as they came, but there's probably more on the way, so we should probably take this bloke and scram—"

"Oh, no," said a voice from behind them, and all four of them whirled about. "I do not zink zat vould be advisable at all." Hermione swallowed thickly, blindly reaching for Tom's hand.

"Grindelwald," she said softly, and he smiled at her. She could tell, even now, that he had been very handsome in his youth. His curly blonde hair was now flecked with grey in spots, but his eyes were still bright and eager.

"Yes. And you are ze little brats who have been destroying my fortress. Albus sent you to fight me, did he?"

"No, I sent myself for that." Hermione felt relief unfurl in her stomach as she turned to see Dumbledore, in all his glory, standing in the doorway, his face colder than she had even thought it possible to be. "Leave them out of this, Gellert, they are just children."

The blonde man laughed coldly. "Ah, but zat is ze issue. Ze are children that have interfered vith adult matters."

"Deal with _me_, Gellert, not them!" Dumbledore said sharply, his eyes flashing. Hermione watched his wand cautiously as he pushed the four of them behind him. Was this it? Were they about to witness the famous final confrontation between Dumbledore and Grindelwald?

Behind his back, Dumbledore shoved something into her hand. She looked down, and realized that it was an empty box of lemon drops.

"Professor, what—?" She whispered, eyeing Grindelwald warily.

"Three minutes, Ms. Macmillan," he muttered back, and immediately, everything clicked. She screamed as a spell collided with the bit of wall above her head.

"Get _down_!" she shrieked at Ron and Harry, who were standing, staring between the two grown wizards nervously. Tom crouched beside her, his face dark with fury. "What?"

Before he could answer, he pushed her aside and she rolled, just avoided a vicious slicing hex. Dumbledore and Grindelwald's spells were flying ever which way. Gritting his teeth, Riddle conjured a shield, encasing the four of them in it.

"Grab him!" she commanded Harry, and he pulled the still-unconscious body of the General into their little huddle. "Whatever you do, do _not _let him go!"

Harry's gaze was baffled. "Hermione, what are you talking about?" She held out the empty box of lemon drops.

"Hold onto it. We'll have about a minute, now." she told him, and he understood, grabbing the box with one hand, and the General with the other. Ron clasped onto one of the corners of the box. Hermione looked around anxiously, seeing Tom hovering around the corner of the hall. "Tom, get over here!" She shouted over the chaos of spells colliding.

He turned to her, and Hermione could've sworn that his eyes flashed red for a moment. "Stop trying to play hero!"

His laugh was high and cold and it made the hairs on Hermione's neck stand on end. "I'm not trying to play hero," he informed her before turning back to the battle. She saw his eyes intent on something, and realized that they were glued to Grindelwald's wand.

She jumped to her feet, tugging on his face to make him look at her. "Tom, you _can't _have that wand! Even if Dumbledore wins, what are you going to do, win it from _him?_ Don't waste your time Tom!"

"Hermione!" Harry called nervously as the portkey began to glow. Tom's eyes flickered once more back to the wand, and then to Hermione's face. Grunting dissatisfiedly, he grabbed her hand, and Hermione dove for the portkey, getting a finger on it just as it disappeared into mid-air.


	11. Time

**A/N: Ohmigosh! Soooo...this is kinda sorta...the last chapter! 0.0 Besides the epilogues and excerpts of course! But ohhh my gosh guys, its been such an amazing ride! No flames please:) I want to thank everyone who has supported this story: **

**Kate Elizabeth Black, fascienneisola8, LCB, VampWitchCat, patie, tsukiko-uchiha95, Pristine Kirsten, skyla-lilly, hateme101, alannalove1990, lupuslady, Lady Oblivious, AwesomePersonlolxx, CMinuteByMinute, sweet-tang-honney, ginny7777, Wicked Sapphira, xDead or Alive, waterflower20, Falke-ness, ItsUpToYou, Violet-eyed-Tiger4, Evanelle, Burnedx2, edwardloverr  
**

**Thanks again for the insanely amazing ride! But I promise there will be at least one more chapter (the epilogue) and anyone who's read Ashes, Ashes knows how much I love writing excerpts;)**

**Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all familiar concepts. Thanks!**

* * *

Chapter Eleven-Time

"—all of their vitals are in perfect condition, Headmaster. The only issues they seem to be suffering from are being underfed."

"Excellent, excellent."

Hermione rubbed her eyes groggily, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as she woke up once again in the Hospital Wing, feeling as though she had been sleeping for years. She reached out to the end table, searching for her wand, before she realized—

_She had left it in the drawer at Nurmengard._

Groaning, Hermione flung herself back on the bed, only to let out a shriek seconds later as she slammed her head on the headboard. Madam Polkins and Professor Dippet came hurrying around the corner, the latter looking at her strangely. "Are you quite alright, Ms. Macmillan?"

She rubbed her head, glaring formidably at the offending headboard. "Sorry, yes, sir. Just a bit out of sorts, is all. Are Harry and Ron awake yet?"

Dippet smiled at her. "Yes, your brother and Mr. Hurst woke a few hours ago and they are now down at the feast. They wanted to make sure you were okay, but I promised them that you just needed your rest."

"Yes, sir, that was probably for the best. Has—" Hermione was interrupted by the opening and closing of a door. Tom immerged from the loo, rolling the sleeves of his freshly washed white oxford uniform shirt up to his elbows. His eyes drifted over Dippet and Madam Polkins and rested on her. His brow arched, and she grinned rather goofily at him, feeling suddenly giddy.

"What was that, Ms. Macmillan?" Dippet urged her, and she ordered herself not to get distracted as Tom sunk down on her bed, sitting by her feet.

"I was going to ask if Dumbledore had returned yet." Her face flushed as Tom rested a hand on her ankle.

Dippet frowned, looking troubled. "No, he hasn't, and we are hoping he will soon. As soon as he returns, the Ministry officials will call the lot of you into the Great Hall to sort out this whole mess, and have General Kirk—"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, having forgotten all about the captive that the four of them had brought back. "The General—where is he?"

"He is currently being held in the Astronomy tower, under heavy guard. I'm afraid we can't do anything with him until Dumbledore returns. Until then, rest up and make sure to get some food into your system."

"Er, yes—thank you, Headmaster!" Hermione called as Dippet strode out self-importantly. Madam Polkins fussed over her for a moment more before leaving her and Tom alone.

After a moment, she said, "It feels weird, being back, doesn't it?"

"It does," Tom mused. "Second semester is going to feel exceedingly boring, after this." Hermione giggled.

"Well, we could always hire a stranger to break into Hogwarts and then take off to some foreign country and volunteer to go after them, again." Tom rolled his eyes.

"They might start thinking that we're just trying to get out of schoolwork, then." He watched, amusedly, as the color drained from Hermione's face.

"Oh, _Merlin_," she groaned. "Think of all the work we've missed! I'll bet I've got _six _essays waiting in Arithmancy! I'm never going to finish by Christmas break, and then I'm going to be stressing out over them, and—"

"We'll work on them together," he told her absently, rubbing circles on the skin of her ankle.

She blushed, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Everything has changed," she said aloud. Her eyes caught a glimmer of light, and she glanced over at Marvolo's Ring, which still sat snugly on Tom's finger. She pursed her lips. "Well, not _everything."_

He let out a disparaging noise, taking her hand in his. "Do you know me, in the future?" he asked suddenly.

She paused, pondering the dangers of telling him this. Finally, she answered. "Yes."

He gave her a sly grin. "Am I still devilishly attractive?"

Hermione froze, an image of modern-day Lord Voldemort slipping into the forefront of her mind. Unable to contain it, a bubble of laughter swelled in her throat and burst from her mouth. Tom stared at her, slack-jawed, as she doubled over, laughing so hard that tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Why is that funny?" he asked worriedly. "That shouldn't be funny!"

"Oh, nothing, Tom," Hermione chortled, still grinning. "Nothing at all."

After Hermione was feeling up to it, the two of them wandered outside to take a stroll around the lake. Hermione felt her face heat up every time their fingers brushed, but he didn't take her hand, and that irritated her. "I feel like I should be nervous," she told him honestly. "They're going to be really harsh, and they won't accept any gaps in our story—"

"There's no reason to be nervous," he countered, his voice smooth and convincing. "We've got all of our facts straight, we've got the evidence, _in flesh_, being guarded up in the astronomy tower, and, most importantly, we're telling the truth."

"I'm still a bit uncertain, though," she said, chewing on her bottom lip. "You do realize that, although we found the man who broke into the castle, we _don't _actually know who lowered the wards." At this, Tom looked away from her, and her gaze focused in on his face. "_Tom_," she said in a warning tone. "You know something that I don't."

He folded his hands behind his back, frowning. "I—I've got an idea…" he said slowly. "But I'm not certain."

"Well tell me quickly!"

"I believe that—"

"Mr. Riddle! Ms. Macmillan! Dumbledore has returned, and your presence is required in the Headmaster's office!" One of the younger students stood almost twenty feet away from this, tapping his foot impatiently. "Well, c'mon then!"

Riddle made to follow the student, but Hermione grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "Tom, what was your idea?"

"You'll find out in a moment," he promised vaguely, before turning back to her, tucking one of her curls behind her ear. "And you aren't going to like it."

With that, he started after the younger student, leaving Hermione standing in the grass with a pout on her lips. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

* * *

"State your name, age, and affiliation."

"Ronald Bilius Hurst, seventeen, Gryffindor house."

"Harold James Macmillan, seventeen, Slytherin house."

"Hermione Jean Macmillan, eighteen, Ravenclaw house."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, seventeen, Slytherin house."

Hermione stared moodily at the wall as the ministry wizard that was taking notes scribbled all of this down. Shouldn't it be required, in that profession, to be a fast writer? Hermione thought so. Also, she noted as she peeked over his shoulder, to have at least semi-legible handwriting.

"Well, let's hear it." Hermione didn't like the bored expression on Travers' face—as though it didn't matter what they said here, nothing was going to change his mind.

Tom cleared his throat. "Well, a few weeks ago, sir, Grindelwald's men broke into Hogwarts. Three of our friends, Abraxas Malfoy, Niles Lestrange, and Edward Burke, were accused, initially being in the wrong place at the wrong time. "

"Very likely," Travers muttered, rolling his eyes. "Continue."

Tom gritted his teeth, determinedly ignoring the surly man. "Well, sir, the wards were lowered at 9:52pm, approximately eleven minutes before the gates were opened. We theorized that whoever lowered the wards took off, letting the intruder do the dirty work of opening the gates."

"But you just said that the gates didn't open until—"

"I'm getting to that," Tom held up a hand, smirking. "Have you ever read about the medallion of Slytherin?" Clenching his jaw, Travers shook his head now, and Tom's smirk widened. "The medallion of Slytherin was an invention by Salazar himself, creating thousands of years ago to allow the fourth founder to sneak in and out of Hogwarts without alerting the other three of his absence. You're aware of the invisible wall that surrounds Hogwarts, I presume? Well, this medallion allowed Salazar to pass directly through the wall. Because the medallion had his blood it, the wards did not need to be lowered."

Hermione watched, enthralled, as Tom paced in front of them, his hands folded neatly behind his back, and she suddenly got the image of a different future for him, instead of the one he had created for himself; a political future.

"After Salazar died, in Northern Egypt, the medallion was sold into the black market, and purchased, years later, by a German wizard, Gellert Grindelwald's Lieutenant Coronel."

Travers interrupted again. "How come the medallion was only sold in recent years, when it has been on the market since Slytherin's death?"

It was a good question, Hermione thought, but judging by the look on Tom's face, he had a good answer, too.

"I imagine that none of the prices the customers offered were satisfying to the medallion's owner. Grindelwald, also, has very effective ways of convincing those people with things he desires to comply with him. We visited Egypt, searching for anyone who had come in contact with the medallion, and instead, we came across Doctor Zelos Armadei, who owned a compass that could track the medallion." Travers' face was skeptical, and Tom was quick to explain. "The compass was installed onto a scale, which required the blood of—of a Pureblood, to work. So, once we put a bit of Macmillan's blood on the scale, it glowed a vivid red, which, Armadei explained to us, narrowed down our search field primarily to Greece."

"A scale that requires blood to work," Travers mused, arching a dark eyebrow.

"Slytherin invented it so that, if someone ever stole the medallion from him he'd have a quick way of tracking it down. He also made it only work with pure blood so that he wouldn't have any Muggleborns or Half-bloods attempting to steal it." Hermione was impressed with his ability to lie so blatantly. But she knew that he would never, ever reveal to anyone in that room, let alone _Travers_, that he was the Heir of Slytherin."

"We went to Greece, to Heraklion, and almost immediately tracked down the German wizard in possession of the medallion. We had him immobilized, and took the medallion, but as we removed it from his neck, a swarm of Grindelwald's men surrounded us, so Hermione apparated us to France." Hermione's mind immediately drifted to that night on the Eiffel Tower, and her cheeks turned bright red, making Harry raise his eyebrows in a questioning way.

"We visited a seer there, Cassandra Trelawney, and she informed us that we need to go to Nurmengard to find the man we were looking for. We flew to Nurmengard the next morning and broke into the fortress—"

"You _broke _into Nurmengard?" It was not Travers who interrupted this time, but one of his lackeys, whose eyes were wide.

"Yeah, well, Hermione's ruddy brilliant." Tom muttered, and she felt her stomach flutter at the praise. "Anyway, we broke into Nurmengard—Ron and I got captured by a few of the guards, and Harry and Hermione got their wands confiscated by General—"

"Hold that thought," Travers said sharply. "Rines—have'em bring down the General." The young man disappeared from the office, and minutes later, two ministry guards heaved their way through the double doors, lugging along a smirking General. "Give him the Veritaserum." Travers ordered. The General hissed as the clear liquid was forced down his throat, and he coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Travers stood in front of his kneeling form, a cold smile on his thin lips. "What is your name?"

The blonde man glared up at Travers. "General Luther Klaus Kirkland," he spat, his stormy grey eyes glinting with malice. Hermione tilted her head, frowning slight. His eyes were so—

"And state your allegiance."

Kirkland tilted his head back, drawing himself up straighter. "To my Lord, Gellert Grindelwald."

Travers nodded in Tom's direction, and he continued. "The General threw us in the prison cells for three days, until Harry attacked one of the guards that brought us food and we escaped the cell. Harry and Ron stayed downstairs to fight off the guards while Hermione and I went to confront Kirkland. We dueled, and I bested him—"

Tom was interrupted by the General, who was chuckling, staring at Tom with narrowed eyes. Hermione felt her stomach drop to her feet. "What is it, you?" Travers snarled at him.

"How vague he's being," Kirkland said in an innocent voice. "Do you not find it strange? Surely, he must tell you the means which he used to defeat me in the duel, the …_curses_ he relied on."

Travers now glanced suspiciously at Tom, whose face had gone pale. "Mr. Riddle, if you would please recite the spells you used during your duel with Mr. Kirkland?"

Hermione saw Tom's adam's apple bob up and down before he began to recite the spells, and Hermione's was shocked to see a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. She had never seen Tom look so ill-composed, so out of his element.

"Ah, ah, ah, you're forgetting one, Mr. Riddle," Kirkland said, his voice positively dripping with amusement. "What is it called again? It starts with a 'C'; I just know it….ah, yes! The Cruciatus curse!"

The cheerfulness in his tone contrasted so heavily with the murder in Tom's gaze that it would have been comical if Hermione wasn't so nervous. Dippet's eyes were nearly bursting out of his head.

"Tom that isn't true, is it?" Dippet exclaimed, clutching at his chest. "Travers, he must be repressing the Veritaserum—"

"He isn't," Travers said grimly, before turning to Tom. "Mr. Riddle, do you deny Mr. Kirkland's accusation of your alleged use of the Cruciatus curse, Unforgivable No. 2, banned by Order of –"

"Please, sir!" Hermione interrupted, stepping forward. "He was just using it to defend himself." Hermione, even, knew this was a lie. He had held the curse for a good minute and a half—that was hardly _defending _yourself. "Kirkland had cast about fifty killing curses his way at that point, and he was just getting desperate!" Travers opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off again, "Yes, yes, I _know _was Order of Law, Class B says, _thank you_, I've read it sixteen times, but I also recall reading in Right of Defense, Section XII, that even Unforgivables, in some cases, can be deemed forgivable if used for self-defense or in dire situations."

"Memorize the entire document?" Travers sneered, but turned back to Tom. "Riddle, you may continue, but we may consider pressing criminal charges after this interrogation is through." Hermione could hardly bear the look of affliction in Riddle's eyes, but he swallowed thickly and continued.

"After I knocked Kirkland unconscious, Grindelwald appeared, and threatened us, but that's when Dumbledore showed up, handed us the portkey, and….well….we arrived back here."

There was a beat of silence within the office and then, "So, tell me, Mr. Riddle: Who _did _open the wards?"

His eyes shifted to Hermione before looking Travers dead in the eye and saying, "Lionel Kirkland."

Hermione felt the air lodge in her throat, and she let out a great, violent cough, staring at Tom in shock. Surely, this had to be some kind of joke—

"No—!" Dippet, apparently was as shocked as she was.

"The Ravenclaw?" Slughorn was aghast.

"I never would have thought!"

"STOP!" Travers roared. "Before you all going jumping to conclusions based on a teenage boy's word, bring the lad in here!"

The group of them waited in a solid silence as a few of the officials departed to retrieve Lionel. Hermione felt like she couldn't see straight; her legs were wobbly, they felt like they couldn't support her weight. She could feel Harry's eyes burning holes into the side of her head, but she could not, _would not_ look at him.

Lionel strode into the room, flanked by two guards, and Hermione's eyes immediately were drawn to his face. His features were arranged into an expression of confusion and innocence, but there, in his eyes, just beneath the bewilderment, was a flicker of amusement, a cold glint of satisfaction.

Hermione's jaw dropped. Lionel had been playing them all from the beginning—just like Riddle did. And it was at that moment that Hermione realized two things at once:

-If she hadn't been aware of Riddle's manipulation before she came, she would have been just as susceptible to it as the people in this time period.

-Lionel was a carbon copy of Riddle, and she _hadn't _been aware of this, so she _had _been susceptible.

"You needed to see me, Professor?" Lionel asked ingenuously, his stormy grey eyes sparking.

_Oh._

"Yes, yes, err—sit down, Kirkland," Dippet said gruffly, looking quite put out, and Hermione supposed she would be to if she had discovered in one night that one of her top students had used the Cruciatus curse, and another was in allegiance with Gellert Grindelwald himself.

Travers eyed the blonde boy harshly. "Do you recognize this man?"

Lionel tilted his head, an expression of mock uncertainty developing on his face. "I _think _I've seen him on a few wanted posters. What is he doing here?"

"Oh, drop the act!" Tom snapped viciously, and Lionel's eyes flickered over to him, flashing almost indistinguishably with annoyance. "_You _lowered the wards that night and let him in! You're related—that's why it was so easy for him to keep tabs on us—he had you feeding him every bit and piece of information you got!"

"I don't know what he's talking about, Headmaster," Lionel said, frowning as he looked at Dippet with sincerity in his eyes.

"Really? Maybe these will remind you." Hermione's head snapped towards the door, and Lydia Greengrass strode through with a sort of haughtiness that only she could manage, and slammed a stack of folded papers on Dippet's desk. Lionel's eyes widened as he saw them, and he lunged for them, but Lydia was too fast, muttering, "_Incarcerous," _and watching with satisfaction as the ropes wound themselves around Lionel. Humming in self-approval, she plucked his wand out of his hand and handed it to one of the ministry officials. Hermione was still having trouble closing her mouth.

"L—Lydia?" She mumbled in astonishment. The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes at Hermione's inarticulacy.

"_Obviously, _Macmillan, unless you think I'm Cassie on Polyjuice, or something," she scoffed, but Lionel's antagonized wail interrupted them.

"_Where _did you get those?" He howled, bouncing up and down in his chair as if this would relieve him of the ropes. Dippet was flipping through the letters curiously, his bespectacled eyes widening every few seconds.

"I stole them from your dorm," Lydia informed him proudly. "I knew you were up something fishy, and I've been spying on you ever since you slipped that Veritaserum into Hermione's pumpkin juice."

The Muggleborn's eyes nearly rolled out of her head as she did a double-take in Lydia's direction before screeching, "He did _WHAT?_"

The dark haired girl snorted. "Yeah, you know, you really should keep an eye on what you drink, Macmillan."

Hermione's mind whirred back to the night in the common room, when Lionel was looking at her with him dreamy grey eyes, and how, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep her mouth shut, and now it made sense why.

The blonde boy grinned apologetically at her, but now the triumphant glint was quite prominent in his eyes. "Don't take it personally, love. It was a necessary action. My uncle thought it was strange that the three of you had just appeared here out of the blue—he's always been a curious soul—and wanted me to dig up some info. So I did. I hope you aren't too cut up about it." He leaned forward, winking at her. "We never would have worked out anyway."

"How _dare _you!" Hermione roared, restraining against Tom's arms, which were firmly holding her back from releasing her mighty wrath upon an amused Lionel. "No, let _go _of me, Tom, I want to hex his balls off!"

"Later, darling," he murmured soothingly. "I let you get him when he's _least _expecting it." This seemed to calm down Hermione a bit, and she contented herself to sitting down and glaring scathingly at the boy, who gave her a charming smirk every few minutes.

"So, all of these letters indicate the contact between Mr. Kirkland and his Uncle?" Travers said, now taking a look at the letters himself.

"Yes," Lydia confirmed. "Obviously, I couldn't retrieve the ones that Lionel sent Mr. Kirkland, but these are all of the replies he received."

"But—but why did you do it, my boy?"Slughorn asked, looking stricken. "Your father—"

"My _father_ is a useless, good for nothing, _swine _of a man, who will abandon his family at the first opportunity he can get! My Uncle has been the one taking care of me and my mother! He took us in, fed us and clothed us when my father wouldn't have anything to do with us! He never wanted to settle down! So why wouldn't I do him a favour and take down the wards? I knew my magic was up to it! Besides, it's not like I care about this hell of a place anyway," he sneered.

"I think we've heard enough. Rine, Bailey, if you'll escort Mr. Kirkland and his Uncle to the Ministry, I'm sure the Minister would be very pleased to learn that we've captured both of our culprits." He paused, turning to face the four of them. "And I suppose you lot can go inform your friends that…well, that they're pronounced not guilty." Hermione couldn't fight the broad grin that spread across her face. She turned and threw her arms around Harry's neck, and he laughed, picking her up and twirling her.

"Oh, and Ms. Macmillan!" She paused at the door, turning, and Travers tossed her a brown sack, which jangled loudly as she caught it. She saw him do the same to the three boys, and she peeked inside, frowning. "I think that should more than compensate your troubles, and illustrate the Ministry's gratitude." Tom was staring at the galleons with wide eyes, and Hermione realized that he had probably never had this much money in his life.

"C'mon!" Harry said abruptly. "Let's go tell them!" The four of them practically sprinted down to the dungeons, flinging open the door to the room that the three Slytherins were being kept in. Abraxas, Niles and Edward looked up, smiles brightened their faces.

"Did you—"

Hermione grinned widely, sweeping into a deep bow. "You lot are officially….._not_ guilty." The three boys let out whoops of happiness, and Harry and Ron hurried to help undo their bindings. Abraxas leapt up off the floor and captured Hermione in a bone-crushing hug; kiss her on the cheek repeatedly.

"You—" _Kiss _"Are—"_ Kiss _"The most amazing girl—"_ Kiss Kiss Kiss _"I have ever met." Hermione laughed liltingly, pushing him away partly out of good-nature, and partly because Tom looked about three seconds away from shackling Abraxas up right back where he was.

"Don't be silly," Hermione said, waving off their compliments. "It was mostly Tom."

The three of them turned towards him. Abraxas' eyes were narrowed harshly. "Really? Because, you know I'm pretty sure that this is the same Tom guy that tried to turn us in."

Tom sighed, stepping forward and sticking out a hand for Abraxas to shake. "I've been thinking about that a lot, lately, and I just wanted to say…..I apologize."

The three of them gaped at him. "Did Tom Riddle just _apologize_?" Edward whispered.

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing when Hermione walked in the door, and she felt a comforting sense of calm as she looked out into the sea of students, all seated underneath the familiar array of colours.

"_Mione!_" she heard a familiar shriek, and her head swiveled towards the Ravenclaw table, where Cassie, Cindy, and Samantha were rushing towards her. The curly-haired girl threw her arms around Hermione first, laughing. "Merlin, I'm so glad you're alright!"

"It's good to see you all, too. I missed you." Hermione smiled sheepishly, and the three girls laughed, leading her back to the table.

She glanced around for empty seats. "There's one here, Macmillan," Lydia said, patting the bench next to her, though she did not look at her. Hermione smiled gratefully, slipping into the seat beside her and enjoying the shocked expressions on the three friends' faces.

"Thank you, Lydia. For everything, I mean. We would've been toast if it weren't for you." The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. Hermione pushed her food around her plate indeterminately. "I—I thought you hated me."

"Oh, I did," Lydia told her unequivocally, but paused and glanced at Hermione's face. "But—I also think you're one of the bravest people I've ever met."

Hermione's eyes sparkled, and without really thinking, she threw her arms around Lydia, who made a disgusted face, despite the small smile on the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, yeah, that's enough of that, Macmillan; I don't _like _you, yet."

"That's okay," Hermione said, still smiling as she pulled away and turned back to her food. "We've got all the time in the world for that."

Hermione was cutting into her steak when she felt a shift in the air. She looked around, but no one else seemed to have noticed it, except…. Harry and Ron were both staring quizzically at her. Her eyes flitted over to the door of the Great Hall, and she felt a jolt as she realized that, standing in the doorway was an aged Professor McGonagall. Hermione's eyes searched hers, and the older woman tapped her wrist, before disappearing.

_Time_.

Hermione rose slowly, and saw Harry and Ron do the same at their respective table.

"What's the matter, Mi?" Bruno called around a mouthful of food.

"I Erm—I'll see you all later, in the common room." They nodded slowly, turning back to their food, but Lydia kept her gaze on Hermione. Their eyes met, and the dark-haired girl gave her a small, nearly imperceptible nod, as if to say, 'It was nice meeting you'. Hermione gave her a wry smile before following Harry and Ron out of the Great Hall.

McGonagall was pacing in the Entrance Hall. "Ah, there you are! Are you ready?—it is time."

"You mean….we did it?" Hermione asked skeptically. "We stopped him?"

McGonagall's face was arranged in a frown. "Funnily enough, he simply _isn't there_. There isn't a Voldemort, nor is there a Tom Riddle."

Hermione's mind whirred through a number of explanations, before she came to the only one that made any sense. "Professor….we aren't there, right? This entire time that we've been in the past, we haven't been there?"

McGonagall blinked. "Yes, of—of course, Ms. Granger, but what—"

Hermione turned to Harry and Ron. "He has to come with us."

Harry's expression immediately darkened. "No—_no! _Absolutely not! C'mon, Hermione, what are you thinking? Professor McGonagall _just _told us that we had a Voldemort-free timeline—you don't want to get bogging that up, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, her hands flying to her hips. "Don't you understand, Harry! The timeline is Voldemort-free because we're going to bring him back the future with us! If we leave him here, it'll go back to the way it was!" She frowned, her head pounding with realization. "But that also means that….that we haven't necessarily changed him. I don't want to bring him back just for him to be the darkest wizard of all time fifty years from then!"

"It doesn't even matter, Hermione, he's _not _coming," Ron informed her gruffly, and Hermione groaned, turning to Professor McGonagall.

"Just—just give a day! _One day_ to convince myself that he's not going to go all murderous."

McGonagall peered at her calculatingly, before sighing, resigned. "Very well. You have one day, and I shall returned at nightfall, tomorrow evening, to retrieve you and take you back."

Hermione didn't even stay for goodbyes. She hurried back into the Great Hall, trying to morph her face into a casual expression, before plunking down next to Tom, ignoring her Ravenclaw friends, who were staring at her strangely.

"Hello," she said softly to him, blushing under the curious eyes of the Slytherins.

Tom quirked an eyebrow at her. "Well, hello. Feeling a little social today?" They sat very close, their thighs pressed against each other and arms brushing as he pushed his food around his plate. Hermione could see Abraxas' eyes flickering between the two of them.

"Something like that," she murmured. "I need to talk to you, when you're finished."

"I'm finished," he said precipitously, pushing back from the table. She followed him out of the hall, but not before she saw Abraxas throw her a sly wink.

They had just barely made it out of the entrance hall when she whispered, "We're leaving."

His head snapped towards her so faced that Hermione wondered if he would get a neck cramp later. "You—oh."

"Tomorrow night," she added, looking at him meekly through her hair. She watched his jaw clenched and unclench, his hands curling into fists several times before he took a deep breath and turned to face her, a forced smile set on his lips.

"Happy travels."

"Oh, Tom, _don't!_" she snapped agitatedly, running a hand through her hair and pulling him over to a bench that sat beneath an awning. "Don't shut me out. I—I need to talk to you about something very serious."

He scoffed, kicking a rock that sat near his foot across the courtyard. "What does it matter?" He sneered. "You're _leaving_. Probably eager to be rid of me—"

"_Don't!_" She repeated. "Sit down, stop being stupid, and _talk _to me. I don't have time for your childish antics."

He grimaced, turning his back to her and staring out past the courtyard, towards the boathouses. Hermione frowned, standing and reaching out to touch his shoulder, before pulling away and electing to wrap her arms around his waist instead. She pressed her lips against his shoulder, and she felt him, almost involuntarily, lean into her touch.

"I don't _want _to go," she murmured against his shirt. "That's why—that's why I've got a proposition for you." He turned to face her, his eyebrows drawn together. "I—I want you to come back with us."

He stared at her blankly for what felt like minutes before he seemed to register what she had said. "Back—back to the future. With you?"

She swallowed. "Yes. I think you would do really well in the political field—" At this, he turned away from her, his face contorted in disgust. "No Tom, listen, just _listen_. I've seen you're future. I've _seen _what you become, if you keep following this…..this path you're on. I know the power is alluring, trust me, I _do_—"

"You think that this is about power?" He turned to her, his face suddenly wrought with fury. "You think that all—all _that _was about _power_? It has _nothing _to do with _power_," he flouted. "If I wanted _power_, I would pursue a political career. I—" He paused, his face suddenly so open with fear that it made her heart cry out in agony. "I don't want to die."

Hermione felt helpless as she watched the suddenly quivering of his chin, how he so stubbornly refused to meet her eyes. She slipped her hand into his, but he yanked it away, glaring tenaciously at the wall behind her.

"Tom," she didn't know what to say. "Tom, I—I know everyone says this to you, but death, it isn't—it isn't something that you need to fear. It happens to everyone—"

"But that's just _it!_" he snapped. "I don't want to be like _everyone!_ I want to live, and make my mark on the world! I don't want to become something extraordinary, and they dissolve into a pile of dust, and have all of that greatness be forgotten."

"But it _won't _be forgotten, Tom, it _won't _be!" She insisted. "You've read the history books! Those people are glorified all the time—look at Salazar Slytherin! As much as I despise what he stood for, his ideals are still present, even today."

Tom didn't look like he felt better, but he would at least look at her now. "And what would you have me be, if I came back to the future with you?"

Hermione frowned, sensing more than one question within his words. "Whatever you want to be, Tom," she told him honestly. "Just not…_him_."

He studied her suspiciously. "You wouldn't make me be a politician?"

She laughed. "Of course not! Hell, you can be a librarian for all I care, just not—"

"Not him," he finished grimly.

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. "I—I'll understand if you don't want to come. I know Abraxas and Niles and Edward are all here, and they're you're friends, and—"

"Give a little while, yeah?" He asked, peering down at her, his face carefully blank. She took a deep breath, nodding, and making her way back up to the dormitory. Hours later, she found herself curled up on her bed, staring blankly out the window. Why did it bother her so much? If he came back, he came back. If he didn't, he did. It wasn't like it would affect her.

She rolled out of bed, and, glancing at her watch, realizing that was nearly seven. She glanced it the mirror, giggling at her hair, which more resembled a hornet's nest. Deciding to simply throw her outer robes on over her crumbled uniform, she made her way down to the Great Hall. She was surprised when none of the boys were present at the tables, so she grabbed a muffin before making her way down to the Slytherin common room. She mumbled the password around a mouthful of muffin, ignoring the portrait's disapproving glare, and stumbled through the portrait hole, yawning widely as she plopped down beside Harry.

"Looking good, Macmillan," Abraxas teased, his eyes wandering over her hair.

"We were wondering where you were, Mione," Harry told her, absently flicking her on the nose. "We were getting a bit worried." His eyes swept over her face, and he frowned, adding in a lower voice, "Have you been crying?"

Apparently not low enough, because Riddle, who was sitting in an armchair with a book in his lap, looked up sharply, his eyes skimming over her face curiously.

"It's nothing," she muttered to Harry, avoiding his eyes. She watched in amusement as Abraxas and Edward engaged in a playful argument about whose Amortentia smelled better. She rolled her eyes, gaze flickering absently around the room. After a few minutes, Tom rose, snapping his book shut and bidding the lot of them goodbye, disappearing through the portrait hole.

Hermione had the strange urge to follow him, but as she rose, Harry pulled her back down, shaking his head decidedly. "_No_, Hermione. You've been spending far too much time with him alone. It isn't safe."

"Harry, we were with him for over two and a half weeks! Hasn't he proven to you that he's not going to hurt me?" Hermione whispered back fiercely, yanking her arm out of his grip. "I wish you wouldn't be so paranoid."

"Well, when you're best friend takes a fancy with the young Dark Lord; you can't help but be a little worried for her safety."

Hermione gave him a wry grin. "No, if my best friend took a fancy with the young Dark Lord, I'd be a little bit more worried about his mental health."

Harry's lips twitched and he nudged her playfully with his elbow, rolling his eyes.

Hermione hardly slept that night; her mind was too occupied with what was coming tomorrow. Her heart pounded in her chest every time she thought of Tom. McGonagall had said that he wasn't present in the future; surely that meant that he would choose to come with her? But what if she didn't mean that much to him? What if he thought she wasn't worth it?

She spent all morning and most of the afternoon with Abraxas and the boys. She was regretting not being able to say goodbye to her Ravenclaw friends, but she wrote each of them a very thoughtful letter, saving Cassie for last. As she considered what to write to her curly-haired friend, she looked up from her letter, addressing Abraxas.

"You know Cassandra Max, right?"

He pretended to look oblivious. "Err….the Ravenclaw, yeah? "

"Yes, her. You should talk to her." Hermione was shocked when I bright blush spread from Abraxas' ears down to his neck. Niles and Edward would surely take the mickey out of his for this later.

"Don't be silly," he mumbled. "She would never talk to me."

"She fancies you," Hermione told him matter-of-factly. It was strange, talking to someone like Abraxas Malfoy about something so casual, but she felt like it was a bridge that needed to be built. "She'd be flattered if you did."

He seemed quite reassured by her statement, drawing himself up straighter. "I might. I just might."

Evening came far too quickly, and the trio was forced to say their goodbyes. Abraxas gave her a huge hug, making her promise to write, and she smiled, swearing that she would, although the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Niles and Edward each kissed her hand, thanking her again for clearing their names.

Hermione looked around anxiously, feeling her stomach give a painful tug as she realized that Tom was nowhere to be found. She sighed dejectedly, scuffing at the ground with the front of her shoe. It didn't matter, she promised herself. She didn't care—

A hand slipped into hers, and her head shot up. Tom stood beside her, dragging his trunk along with his free hand. He glanced down at her, and gave her a small smile. "I decided that I needed to prioritize a bit," he admitted quietly.

She beamed at him. "And?"

"And I decided that you're a smart girl, and if you say that my future isn't worth looking forward to, then I suppose I'm inclined to believe you." He paused, nodding his head resolutely. "I'll make a new future."

"Right," Hermione agreed, shuffling closer to him as McGonagall became to re-structure the circle that they had to step into.

"With you." She looked up at him again. This time, his eyes were on her, probing her gaze for something, searching for some sort of reassurance. His words comforted her, and she was sure she was making the right decision. He didn't have to turn into a monster. She would help him keep to the path that he had been born to follow.

The _light _path.


	12. An Epilogue

**A/N: Wow, okay, sooo...I'm AWFUL sorry about the wait! I'm not exaggerating-this took me THREE TRIES to write. I would write one Epilogue, then I wouldn't like it, so I would start over, write another, didn't like it etc. etc. and so here we are! With an Epilogue that I don't love, but can tolerate. You will probably all complain that Tom is waaaay OC, but to be perfectly honestly, I couldn't give two hoots, because it's late and I'm tired and gosh dangit, if I want a mushy-gushy, sappy ending, then I'll write a mushy-gushy sappy ending!**

**Okay...thanks:D**

**Disclaimer: JO owns**

* * *

Epilogue—

For the third time in a matter of months, Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing.

"_Mione!" _

Her eyes flew open as a pair of arms was flung around her neck. She vision was assaulted with familiar flaming red hair and a freckled face. "Merlin, Mione, we missed the tar out of you!" Before the older girl could respond, Ginny turned, calling over her shoulder, "Oi, you lot; Hermione's awake!"

Her bed was quite suddenly surrounded by five familiar faces; Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, and Fred and George Weasley, the latter two who were grinning mischievously.

"Where've you been, Granger? Had half the Ministry out looking for you lot, didn't we boys?" The bunch of them muttered in agreement. Hermione looked between the six of them bewilderedly, and it was a moment before she could speak.

"I—er—what are you—"

"Got into a spot of trouble, didn't we, Mi?" She breathed a sigh of relief as Harry emerged between the Fred and George and sank down on her bed. "Didn't mean to worry you all. It was a project for—" Harry paused, his brow creasing.

"The Department of Mysteries," McGonagall cut in smoothly, striding into the room, her shoes clicking with purpose. "They need a Muggleborn to negotiate with a team of Muggles up in the East, and Harry and Ron elected to go with Miss Granger. They just got a little lost, is all."

"Well, we're glad to have you back, Mione," Ginny said. "Only, who's the new fellow?" Hermione followed the redhead's gaze, past Ron's sleeping form, to the farthest occupied bed, and her heart rose to her throat. There laid Tom, peacefully unconscious, his face lined with cuts and bruises from their time at Grindelwald's Fortress, but otherwise unharmed.

"That's—erm—"

"A refugee," McGonagall told her. "We picked him up just outside of France. He was escaping some dark wizards down in Paris. We brought him back here to finish his education at Hogwarts, since Beauxbatons is closing down."

"Beauxbatons is closing down?" Hermione blinked in surprise. Ginny raised an eyebrow at the girl curiously.

"Hermione—Fleur's only been ranting about it since last November!"

She swallowed, leaning back against her headboard. "Of course….I must have forgotten." She glanced at the group of them apologetically. "Is…do you think there's any way I could—maybe, have—"

McGonagall rose. "Let's give them some time to rest, yes? After all, you do have classes tomorrow." The Gryffindors let out a collective groan and McGonagall ushered them out. The door closed behind the group rather noisily, rousing the other two boys. Ron sat up, peering at she and Harry groggily. "Are we—that is—"

Hermione smiled, slipping out from under her sheets to reach over and squeeze his hand. "We're back," she told him softly. A broad grin broke out across his face, and Hermione, too, felt her cheeks lift. She could feel it in the air, between the three of them, the complete _lack _of tension—_they were safe_.

"So, what do you think it meant? That nobody knew where we had been?" Harry asked the two of them after a moment.

"I was wondering how much things will've changed, you know?" said Ron, flicking a clump of dirt off his knee. "I mean—I know she said he's—_gone—_but what does that mean, you know? I can't help but being a little paranoid…"

Hermione slipped between t two of them, tuning out of the conversation and padding barefooted across the room, stopping in front of the only other occupied bed. He stared up at her unblinking, his dark eyes flickering over her face unabashedly. After a moment, his hand shot out, wrapping itself around her wrist and swiftly pull her down next to him. She stifled a shriek, frowning at him.

"Tom! Was that really necessary?" She whispered. He let out a low chuckle, molding her body flush against his. She felt her face burning as she noted that Ron and Harry's conversation had simmered down, and the two of them were probably staring slack-jawed at the moment. She anxiously pawed at his shoulder. "Tom, _don't_. The other two—"

"I didn't come to the future with you to be disregarded." She started to protest, but he cut her off with a warning look. His words were fierce, vindictive, and slightly possessive, and, though she would never admit it, his tone sent a tingle of pleasure down her spine. "I came because I actually do hold some semblance of care for you, and I wanted to be you, and if those two buffoons can't accept that, then frankly, they can go swimming in the Black Lake and breed with the mer-people for all I care." Hermione's lips twitched in amusement, and she reached up a hand to brush his hair from his eyes.

"I care, too," she murmured finally, her lips brushing against his shoulder.

He smirked, looking down at her with twinkling eyes. "I know you do. I saw you, you know. The other night—well, technically, fifty-four years before the other night—when you came down from your dorm, and you looked like you'd been crying." Hermione's face heated up. "You were crying because you thought I wouldn't come."

She looked away from him, only to have his fingers drag her face back, so that they were nose to nose, his eyes penetrating hers so deeply that she felt dizzy. "It's okay. As _flattered _as I am to know that you care so much, I just want to let you know….I'll _always _come for you, Hermione."

Hermione's head twisted around so fast that she winced. Harry and Ron weren't looking at them, but that didn't mean they weren't listening. She twisted back around to face Tom with a chastising glare. "You—I—I can't even—" Her words were swallowed by her incoherent splutters of shock. His face was rearranged in a mask of pure innocence, but his eyes were twinkling merrily.

"C'mon," quipped Tom, still chuckling. "Let's go get something to eat." The two of them had just slipped their shoes on, when there came a knock at the door. McGonagall poked her head in, and there was something on her face that Hermione couldn't quite decipher.

"I know you said you wanted some time alone, but there are some people here that I think you'll want to see, Mr. Potter." The bespectacled boy frowned, but nodded, and McGonagall pushed the door fully open. Hermione's heart stopped mid-beat. Through the door stepped two figures. One was tall and gangly, with a mop of messy black hair atop his head, a long nose, and a pair of wire-rim glasses in front of amused hazel eyes. Next to him was a beautiful woman, with waist-length deep red hair, pale skin dotted in freckles, and the most vivid, familiar green eyes Hermione had ever seen.

Harry sat up very quickly, his face blanching. "M—mum?" His voice cracked very audibly. "Dad?"

"Sweetheart, we were so worried!" Lily Potter fretted, her eyebrows drawn together as she hurried to his side. "Don't you _ever_ run off like that again, do you hear me?" Harry looked as though he was having a hard time breathing, with his mother's arms around his neck. James Potter caught Hermione's eye and gave her an amused scoff.

"The woman was worried sick," he informed them. "I told her he was fine—just off adventuring like the lot of us used to do—but she wouldn't hear reason." Despite his nonchalance, he swept his son into a tight hug, ruffling his dark hair affectionately.

Lily, with her arm still tight around Harry's shoulders, turned to the freckled boy. "Ronald, dear, your family is down in the Great Hall, and Hermione, I believe your parents are on their way here as well. McGonagall wrote to us as soon as you arrived back. The Professors momentarily lowered the Muggle-repelling charms—they were terribly eager to see you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," Hermione said abashedly, still in a state of shock. She felt Tom's hand firm in her own, but all she could focus on was the disbelief written on Harry's face. He had yet to speak, but kept looking between Lily and James as if he expected them to disappear at any moment.

"Hermione!" The bushy-haired which started, whirling on her heel, and grinned widely as her mother all but sprinted towards her with open arms. She woman enveloped Hermione in a tight hug. Mrs. Granger looked nothing like her daughter; she had dark, nearly black hair that fell smooth and shiny down her back, not a trace of bushiness. Her eyes were a pale green, and she had high cheekbones and a patrician nose.

Mr. Granger, however, resembled his daughter a great deal; his brown hair, or what was left of it, was curly, and his eyes were light brown, like caramel. His face smiled easily, and had no trace of anguish or worry. He scooped his daughter up into his arms and lifted her as though she weighed us much as a ten-year-old. Hermione laughed, happiness swelling inside of her as she took in her father's smile, her mother's shimmering gaze resting on her face. She hadn't realized how much she was missing when she had left, or how much she had to look forward to coming back to.

"Mum—Dad," she whispered, pulling the two of them closer. "I have someone I'd like to introduce you to. This is—" She turned, gasping when she realized that Tom was no longer behind her, but looked up just in time to see him disappear out the Hospital Wing door.

* * *

It was Christmas break, so very few people remained at Hogwarts, and those who did stared warily at the Muggles who were sitting at the house tables, chatting easily with the Professors and engaging in the feast. The entire Weasley family took up a large amount of table space, and Hermione hadn't realized how much she missed their mannerisms; how they were banter, and bicker, and everything about them was a synchronized sort of chaos. The smile had not left Ron's face since he greeted them in the Great Hall.

Dumbledore, as you would have it, was in Germany, dealing with a small band of dark wizards; so, evil couldn't be eradicated entirely, naturally, but it was still better than an entire army's force against the walls of Hogwarts.

"How long's he been there, then, in Germany?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food. Hermione rolled her eyes; some things would never change.

"About three days. A few descendants of Grindelwald's followers attempted to bust their family members over the weekend, but to no avail. Merlin knows why—they've got to be in their seventies now, they'll do no good—but these dark wizards are adamant, and the Headmaster considers it his duty to deal with anything involving Grindelwald.

Hermione believed this. She had never seen that expression on his face—when he had faced Grindelwald, that day in the Fortress. It was not an expression of hatred, or revulsion, rather, a grimace of acceptance; the expression of one who did not enjoy the task that they were bound to perform.

She had not seen Tom all day. He had disappeared from the Hospital Wing and had not returned for dinner, and Hermione could not calm the niggling doubt that squirmed in the forefront of her mind. She didn't think Tom was up to no good—he was too clever to get into trouble right off the bat—but something was obviously bothering him. He had seemed fine, before she and Harry's family had arrived—

She pushed away from the table, and her parents looked up at her questioningly. "I'm going to go for a walk," she told them quietly. "I'll see you later this evening."

The hallways were eerily silent. Hermione could hear each time her feet hit the ground. She drew her wand casually, twirling it between her fingers—a trick she had learned from Harry—and pushed open the huge doors to the Entrance Hall.

It did not take long to find him. He was sitting on a bench in the corner of the Entrance courtyard. His wand was drawn, levitating stones and launching them out over the slanting and spiraling roofs. He barely glanced at her as she sank down beside him. He watched him for a moment more, before she slid her fingers across the top of his thigh, resting her hand just above his knee. His movements stilled, just for a moment, but his kept his eyes deliberately trained off of her face.

"I missed you at dinner," she admitted aloud.

He sighed. "I figured you'd want time to catch up with your family." Was that _bitterness_ she detected in his voice? She thought so.

"I wanted to introduce you to my parents," she told him.

He made a disparaging noise. "They don't want to meet me." He paused. "I don't belong here, Hermione."

She frowned. "Tom—"

"I _don't_. You've all got your families, and your own business to attend to—I'm nothing but a distraction. You don't need that in your life. I'm only in the way—"

"You're being stupid," she spat coldly. "You know I find this sort of self-deprecation revolting. I've already made my feelings for you quite plain, and I'm not going to reiterate them if you're acting like—like _this_."

"Like _what_, Hermione?" He snarled. "Like I don't have anything in this God-forsaken place to depend on? Right, because that's kind of how I feel right now."

She looked mildly hurt, and he regretted his words. "I didn't mean it like that. I know you—"

"You apparently don't," she remarked curtly. "Or else you wouldn't be acting like this. Have you forgotten _everything_?" His frustration was immediately replaced by mischievous, and he edged closer to her. Their thighs were pressed against one another and he was gazing down at her with that smirk that was so very disarming.

"Not _everything_," he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple and his head dipped closer to her own. "There are a few things I remember."

Her heart beat sped up, leaning closer and inhaling his scent as his breathing fell into rhythm with her own. "Like?"

He smiled—not a smirk, but a genuinely little curve of his lips, a sliver of teeth appearing between them. "The Eiffel Tower; I distinctly remember the Eiffel Tower."

His mouth had made its way to the line of her jaw and he traced it absently with his lips, his eyes closed. Hermione smiled. "You wouldn't kiss me at the top."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin, and she shivered. "It actually wasn't out of spite, notwithstanding your ardent belief that it was. I didn't have the nerve to do it at the top, and by the time we got to t bottom, I had decided blast it—I wasn't going to get another golden opportunity."

Her eyebrow arched, and the pad of his thumb traced over it. "You actually thought about it? I was always under the impression that it was more of an impulse-of-the-moment sort of thing with you."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" He sighed, his arms circling her waist, and she slung her legs over his lap. "I suppose it was, in a way. Then again, most of what I did around you was impulse. But I did think about it. I'd been thinking about it for quite a while, actually. The first time I thought about kissing you, I nearly hexed myself—it was such an alien feeling."

Hermione blinked in surprise, her eyes flickering open to search his face. "How long?" She elaborated, "How long had you been thinking about it?—kissing me, that is."

He gnawed at his lower lip, and Hermione felt a sharp smugness as she took in the flush of pink that his cheeks had taken on, despite the nonchalance his expression struggled to keep. "That night, in the kitchens; you took the mickey out of me."

If he hadn't been surveying her so closely, her jaw most likely would've dropped. "That—that _early_? Even before Grindelwald's attack? I—I didn't even—"

"I know you didn't," he grumbled, his attention directed at their twined hands. "And I knew it was—stupid, really. But, you must understand, Hermione—there aren't a lot of girls with intelligence like yours. I find that attractive. It was strange, to say the least, feeling like that about you. I spent hours upon hours trying to convince myself otherwise. Funnily enough, it was much easier for me to admit to myself that I fancied you further down the road, than it was to admit that I was physically attracted to you at the beginning."

Hermione glanced sharply at him. "But—I mean—surely that part of it couldn't have been…_foreign_." At his blank stare she brushed her hair out of her eyes anxiously. "Erm—I only mean…that you had to have had those sorts of…_feelings_…before me." She wasn't stupid; her two best friends were boys, and she knew that their hormones were twice as active as any female's.

Tom seemed to realize what she was talking about, because he drew in a sharp breath of air, wiping his hands nervously on his trousers. "Oh—erm—well…no."

Hermione's mind was whirring, but it could not, _would not _process this new bit of information. Surely he had to be lying; deceiving her to make her feel special, to feel desired. He couldn't possibly have been being genuine. She felt his eyes burning in search of hers, but her uncertainties were swelling inside her mind.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he murmured, gently grasping her hips and squeezing. She sighed, leaning against him again, feeling the tension dissipate.

"No, no," she waved off his concerns. "I'm just surprised, is all, what with you being—" She stopped abruptly, blushing furiously. He raised a single brow, his eyes probing her. "Well…Merlin, Tom, you don't need me to tell you you're gorgeous. They were throwing themselves at your feet left and right."

He wrinkled his nose as though he had smelled something unpleasant, and Hermione could not help but think it was adorable. "Yes, I had noticed. But honestly, how could I ever find such… acquiescence appealing?" He nuzzled against her cheek, his breath fanning out against her face, and Hermione was struck by the tenderness of the gesture. "You never compromise yourself, and I have to respect you for that. You know I respected you before I actually liked you, and there aren't a lot of people that I respect."

"Well, then I feel _honoured_, I assure you," the Gryffindor teased, but cut off his moue by lifting her lips to meet him, simpering as his mouth moved against hers prosaically. His lips ghosted over her own, leaving a fiery trail along her skin and coming to rest at the juncture between her shoulder and her neck. Hermione tilted her head back, twisting her fingers into his dark hair—

"Hermione?"

Her eyes snapped open and she and Tom broke apart in a matter of moment. She was embarrassed to realize that they were both panting. Blood rushed to her face as she realized her parents were standing not twenty feet away at the door of the Entrance Hall. They approached slowly; her father's gaze held suspicion as he regarded the two of them, but her mother's eyes were glistening with such devious intent that it made Hermione uncomfortable. She felt Tom squeeze her hand, and she cleared her throat.

"Mum, Dad, I'd like to introduce you to Tom, my—" She paused, glimpsing sheepishly up at Tom. What _was _he? Her boyfriend? Did _he _think so? Where did they even—?

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger; I'm Tom, Hermione's boyfriend." His smooth voice would make even the strictest of parents feel at home. His face betrayed nothing but complete politeness and charm, showing no embarrassment of having just been caught with their daughter in a rather intimate position. Hermione felt relief unfurl in her abdomen.

"It's a pleasure, Tom." Mrs. Granger said gracefully, taking his outstretch hand and throwing Hermione a wink when his lips brushed across her knuckles. Tom held his hand out to Mr. Granger, who then proceeded to break the younger man's hand, but if Tom noticed, he didn't indicate it.

"Hermione, we were just coming to tell you that we're heading back home for the remainder of break, so if you'll gather your things, we'll be on our way."

"Oh, yes—of course," Hermione flustered. "I'll just go pack." She reached out for Tom's hand, but her mother beat her there.

"Tom, dear, why don't you stay down here and tell us about yourself." Hermione rounded on her mother, her eyes wide, but the older woman waved her along. She ground her teeth, stomping across the courtyard and inside. She all but sprinted up to the Gryffindor common room, throwing her things into her trunk haphazardly and hastily scrambling around for her robes. When she was sure she had everything, she hurried down the seven floors and all but flung herself out into the courtyard.

Tom and her parents were seated on the bench, which looked to have been elongated by magic, and the three of them were laughing heartily at something. Hermione felt her stomach clench in anxiousness as she drew close enough to hear their words.

"And she was dead awful at gymnastics, of course—so strange, considering how talented she is at ballet."

"Hermione never told me she danced?" Tom said, with just the amount of curiosity and amusement. Mrs. Granger laughed liltingly, slapping his shoulder playfully.

"Oh, but she doesn't tell _anyone_. If you ever swing by, we'll have to show you the videos of her recitals—she was brilliant, and—"

"Alright, mum, that's _enough_." Hermione grumbled. Tom shot her an amused glance.

"Oh, but _Mione_, darling, I don't know _why _you keep it quiet, you did very well—and Tom was quite interested, you see—"

"No, no, that's enough, Mum!" Hermione snapped. "C'mon, we best be going."

"Oh, very _well_, you fun-spoiler. It was lovely to meet you, Tom," she told him, patting his shoulder in a motherly way. "I'm quite sure we'll be seeing you often." The wink she threw him nearly made Hermione gag.

She waited till her parents had started to make their way off before she strode up to him, swatting at his bicep. "_Honestly_, who do you think you are, making my parents like you better then they like me."

He chuckled, looping his arms around her waist. "Well, since they'll be _seeing me often_—"

"You arrogant prick," she quibbled. "Do you have your things?"

He frowned. "I was actually going to stay here—for the remainder of break, I mean. I've got some things I need to take care of." He studied her expression warily.

Hermione was careful not to let her disappointment show on her face, but it coloured the tone of her voice. "Oh—I…well, okay then. Erm…"

He groaned. "Mione, you know I want to come with you, it's just—McGonagall's going to be awfully busy. She's got to forge a fake identification for me, an entire back story, and I need to be here to help."

"No, no, I understand." Why was she getting so upset? It wasn't like she hadn't been away from him before—actually, now that she thought of it, she hadn't been away from him since the beginning of the school year. Even when they were separated, she knew that he was just on the other side of the castle, sleeping.

He sighed, brushing his fingers against the side of her face. "Look, I promise I'll be here when you come back, and we'll have all this sorted out, and we can finish off the year together, but first, I need you to go enjoy the holidays with your family, yeah?" She nodded slowly, knowing deep in the recesses of her mind that he was right. He planted one last lingering kiss on her forehead, his scent washing over her like asylum.

She lifted her trunk, dragging it off in the direction that her parents had gone. "Oh, and Hermione?" She turned to face the boy questioningly.

He gave her a bewitching smile, his arm half-raised as if to wave. "Happy Christmas."

Hermione beamed at him. "Happy Christmas, Tom."

* * *

The last week at her parents' house seemed to drag on to Hermione. She loved her family—truly she did—but also missed the magic of Hogwarts. It had been ten times as unbearable because she had yet to go retrieve a new wand from Diagon Alley, so she could do no magic around the house, despite the fact that she was of age.

To make matters worse, she could not start a conversation with her mother without the woman bringing up Tom. She seemed almost as enamored by him as Hermione was. At least, it seemed, her father was as annoyed by her mother's obsession as she was.

She had not heard from Harry all week, but that was to be expected. He was spending the rest of the break with him parents, and was, no doubt, absorbing as much of them as he could before he went back to school. She could not be happier for her friend. It hardly seemed real, everything being okay all of a sudden, but she was hardly complaining.

It was one of those rare, quiet afternoons, where her parents were out getting groceries and she lay atop her bed, reading. In two days time, she would go back to Hogwarts. She was looking forward to finishing her last year; competing with Tom, challenging herself in class, and besting him on the test scores, but she couldn't help but feel a deeper excitement, one that rested in the pit of her stomach.

_You want to see him_, she realized with a jolt of uncertainty. _Is this what love is like? _If it was, Hermione wasn't sure it she enjoyed it or not. It wasn't butterflies and mushy-gooshy poetry—it—it _hurt_. It was almost physically draining to be away from him for this long of a period of time. Not a moment could pass without her thinking about him. Something would remind her of his mannerisms, she would compare something to him, the way he did that little half-smile when he was reluctant to admit that she'd made him laugh, his smug smirk when he knew he had gotten to her, the wry chuckle whenever he was amused.

Hermione started when she heard a sharp tap on her window. She sprang out of bed and flung it open as a large, brown owl flew into her room. She realized that it was one of the Hogwarts owls, and she felt her chest give a jolt.

She needed to relax, she told herself as she scrambled to untie the letter from the owl's leg. It probably wasn't him—he hadn't mentioned that he was going to write. There was no need to get excited—it was most likely McGonagall, or Remus, or—but no, she recognized that perfect, elegant script all too well. Was it even fair for him to have such perfect handwriting?

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_ I know it's a bit late, and not anywhere near adequate enough for what you deserve, but I think it will suit you. Don't worry—it's safe._

_Yours,_

_ Tom_

Hermione moved to hastily open the box, but paused when another piece of parchment fell out from behind the first one. She gingerly picked it up and turned it over.

_The abode of the nightingale is bare,_  
_Flowered frost congeals in the gelid air,_  
_The fox howls from his frozen lair:_  
_Alas, my loved one is gone,_  
_I am alone:_  
_It is winter._

_Once the pink cast a winy smell,_  
_the wild bee hung in the hyacinth bell,_  
_Light in effulgence of beauty fell:_  
_I am alone:_  
_It is winter._

_My candle a silent fire doth shed,_  
_Starry Orion hunts o'erhead;_  
_Come moth, come shadow, the world is dead:_  
_Alas, my loved one is gone,_  
_I am alone;_  
_It is winter._

_-Walter de la Mare_

Hermione tried to swallow, but found that her throat was stuck. She stared numbly at the parchment, her fingers gripping it so tightly that they were turning white around the edges.

_Oh, Merlin_.

Finally, she drew in a deep breath, setting the parchment down and folding her legs underneath her, staring at the blank patch of wall across from her without really seeing it.

_He had written her _poetry.

Quoted it, to be exact, but written it nonetheless. Hermione's fingers were trembling as she reached for the tiny box. It felt heavy in her hands, and her fingers fumble as she tore off the paper. Her breath stilled in her lungs as she saw what it was.

Inside the box sat a small gold ring, and at its center was a black stone. Just barely noticeable in the depths of the darkness of the stone was a symbol. A triangle, and inside the triangle, a circle, and a long, straight line that ran right down the middle.

She tossed the ring away from herself with a gasp.

Hermione was not stupid; she had seen what it had done to Dumbledore. The older man even speculated that someone without his immense magical talent would have been killed in the same moment of putting the ring on.

_Don't worry—it's safe_.

Tom wouldn't send her something that could kill her, would he? She glanced down at the ring, which lay a few feet away from her, its surface glimmering innocently in the lighting of the room. At least, he wouldn't do it so tactlessly. If he was going to send her a cursed ring, he wouldn't have signed the letter. The evidence would be only too obvious to Dumbledore or McGonagall or Harry when they arrived and saw her dead, and then he'd be off to Azkaban in a matter of hours.

She tentatively touched the ring again. Was it her imagination, or was something—missing? She remembered how Harry had described it before, when he had begun taking lessons with Dumbledore during his sixth year. He had said that the moment he touched the ring, he could _feel _the dark magic it emitted. Hermione didn't feel _anything_.

_Don't worry—it's safe_.

She had no reason to believe him—not really. After all he had done—

Hermione nearly slapped herself. How self-righteous she was being. Tom had more than proven that he had no intentions of taking over the world and killing Muggleborns—who was she to be so suspicious of him? She reasoned with herself that it would be a long time—if ever—before that suspicion diminished. She and the boys had been through far too much to let it go. And he had known what she would be suspicious—he had made sure to address it.

_Don't worry—it's safe._

She slipped the ring onto her finger, startled when she felt a warm feeling wash over her, much like the first time she had ever held her wand.

For the rest of the break, Hermione found herself absently fingering the ring, She would twirl it nervously around her finger whenever her parents asked about Tom's past—where he was from, what his parents did, where he grew up—her hand would immediately go to it whenever she started getting that painful clenching feeling in her chest—she was missing him too—and every time she glanced at the parchment, which she had rolled up and put in a special compartment in her trunk to take back to Hogwarts, that same, strange warm feeling washed over her.

In two days time, Hermione was back at Platform 9 ¾, boarding the train with the two boys, who were both enthusiastic to tell her about their breaks.

"And you'll _never _guess who visited us for New Years! _Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon! _My Mum's brothers—they were killed the first time, you see, so I never met them, but they're bloody brilliant! Just like Fred and George, except, you know, _older_…"

"—my mum can _cook_, Hermione! She didn't even make me cook _anything_! I kept asking her if I could help, and the two of them were looking at me as if I had three heads! Then—you'll never believe this—when Mum went to serve the turkey, she skipped me over, and I asked for some, and everyone thought I'd gone mad—_because I was Vegetarian! _Can you believe that, Mi? _Me_, a Vegetarian! And Sirius and Remus were there, and they were telling stories about the time they'd—"

The compartment door slid open, and the three of them looked up. "You all haven't seen a ferret anywhere about here, have you?" Hermione's jaw dropped, and Draco arched a brown at her. His pale blonde hair, which was normally slicked back, fell shaggily into his eyes, giving him a sort of roguishly handsome look. She blushed, closing her mouth abruptly.

"Erm—no, sorry," stammered Harry, being the first to snap out of his daze.

"Right," Malfoy shuffled his feet, glancing around the compartment. "Well, good to see you all. The castle was in an uproar when you went missing. Glad to see you're safe. Good Christmases?" His tone was polite, forced even, but that alone was something that Hermione never thought she'd live to hear.

"—Er, yeah….thanks. Yours?"

Draco let out a little 'hmm' and Hermione recognized the familiar upturn of his nose. "Quite nice, thank you. Father took us out on a yacht in France. Only the most esteemed area, of course." He gave Hermione a sideways glance before continuing. "Our family is quite respected, over in France."

"Naturally," Ron gibed quite cheerfully, biting the head off of his chocolate frog with exuberance.

"Well, best be off. See you at the feast, then."

The compartment was silent for a few moments after he left, and then—

"_What the ruddy hell—" _Ron exploded.

_ "You'd think we were friends or something—" _Harry practically shouted.

_ "He's acting like he's actually gives a rat's—"_

"I don't understand," Harry whined. "Why's he acting so—so—"

"Think about it logically, Harry," Hermione reasoned. "You-Know-Who isn't here anymore. Without him around, do you honestly think any of those Pureblood fanatics are smart enough to gather up forces and start hunting Muggleborns? Of course not—the Pureblood ideals, they're probably still there; but without someone to…push them along, eventually those sorts of things die out. To Draco, you aren't the boy who defeated his father's master at the age of one, you're just another student."

It took a while to rile the boys down after this, but when they seemed content enough, Hermione headed off to the Prefects' meeting. She was ever-so-grateful when McGonagall had decided to reward her with Head Girl, despite being absent the entire first semester, and she was even more excited to explore her new dorms, which, thankfully, she _didn't _have to share with a bunch of gossiping, giggly Gryffindor seventh-year girls.

The train ride seemed to fly by, and it was not long before Hermione found herself ambling excitedly into the Great Hall with a large group of older students. Harry and Ron were playfully bantering beside her about the Chudley Cannons, and ahead of her Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were coercing Neville to give them the 'dirty details' about his date with Luna Lovegood last Saturday.

With an ill-concealed jolt, Hermione immediately spotted Tom seated at the Slytherin table, a book propped in one hand, his other hand tapping impatiently on table top. Hermione briefly wondered what had him fidgeting; Tom was not one to be antsy, so whatever he was waiting for—

He glanced up as if he could sense her thoughts, and when his eyes fell on her, the stiffness immediately left his shoulders. Hermione's stomach tingled at the thought that he had been worrying for her. He inclined her head in her direction, and a secret smile made its way across her lips. She sat down, so that she was facing him, and couldn't help but glance at him every few moments.

Hermione was distracted through most of Dumbledore's speech and the sorting, but her attention was drawn back to the present when the food appeared. Her jaw clenched, however, as she cut into her meat, when she heard the route that Lavender and Parvati's discussion had taken.

"I know Malfoy's gorgeous, but _Merlin_, that new boy—"

"I've never _seen _someone so attractive." Hermione winced as Lavender's voice reached an entirely new level of shrillness.

"I wonder where he came from."

"Wherever he came from, he probably wouldn't appreciate the two of you ogling him, you know," Hermione snapped finally, and the two of them stared owlishly at her before looking away slowly, shooting each other pointed glances.

"Students! If you will—I have a short announcement to make! As many of you are aware, Beauxbatons, our sister school, is shutting down due to some political issues. Therefore, we have our first of what will probably be many transfers, Mr. Tom Riddle. He had been sorted into Slytherin house, and I'm sure you will all do you utmost best to make him feel welcome. Thank you."

All eyes were now swiveling towards the Slytherin table, and those who had not already been were now staring unabashedly. Tom's face was the perfect mixture of polite irritation and embarrassment.

"Ooh and he's _French_," Parvati cooed, staring at Tom in a way one might stare at a slice of cake after six weeks in the desert with nothing to eat.

"Yeah, but I hear he's got a girlfriend, though," Hermione snapped finally, shooting a glare at Harry, who was opening laughing at her.

Lavender and Parvati's jaws were slack. "You're lying," said the former.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, of course I'm not. She's the real jealous kind, too, I hear. You know, the kind that would slip poison into your pumpkin juice if you so much as _looked _at him the wrong way."

Lavender's gaze was suspicious now, and Parvati looked quite terrified as she turned her eyes back to her plate. Hermione, mollified, went back to cutting her meat, ignoring her bespectacled friend's guffaws of laughter.

The feast was nearly finished when Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and blinked when she saw Tom standing behind her, his face arranged into an expression of sincerity. She heard Parvati and Lavender's excited titters beside her, but she ignored them.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said immediately. "But I was wondering, as you are the Head Girl, if you wouldn't mind giving me a quick tour of the castle. I would've asked the Head Boy, but he is previously engaged.

_Like hell he was._

Hermione pretended to look thoughtful, before she heaved a great sigh, looking like it inconvenienced her. "I suppose I am obligated, aren't I? Lavender let out a hiss of disapproval and Tom's lips quirked upwards.

"I'm terribly sorry; I just wouldn't want to get lost tomorrow on my way to classes. I promise, I won't take up too much of your time." How could either of the blithering bimbos beside her _not _see the mischievous flash of his eyes, the smirk, hidden in the corner of his mouth? She sighed, letting him help her off of the bench, and followed him out of the Great Hall, ignoring the whispers that followed them.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Tom whirled her about, slamming her none-too-gently against the stone wall. His smirk as his fingers ghosted over the skin of her neck was unparalleled. She sighed, leaning her head against the wall as her arms found their way around his neck.

"Did I mention that…I missed you, dear Head Girl?"

She let out a gasp as his mouth latched on to the skin just behind her ear, and her hand shot to his hair. "It—it didn't come up in your letter, no.

He pulled away, frowning, and Hermione almost cried out at the loss of contact. His hands brushed over her waist, tightening on her hips and pressing her deeper into the wall. "I—I sometimes forget that you're a girl."

Her eyes blinked open in disbelief, and he hastily corrected himself. "What I mean is—sometimes I forget that you aren't certain about how I feel about you. You girls—you get all insecure, and uncertain—as if I haven't made my affections plain enough."

"I feel a sense of déjà vu," Hermione murmured, and Tom chuckled.

" I missed you," he breathed against her flesh, his hands slipping under her blouse and setting fire to the skin of her stomach.

"I liked your present," she blushed hotly when his gaze shot up to meet her own. "And the poetry—_Merlin_."

"You're wearing it," he asked unnecessarily, disbelief painting his tone. "I—I just thought—" She kissed him to silence him. He gripped her tightly, almost painfully, his breath hot against her mouth. "Merlin, Granger, I—I think I might fancy myself in love with you." She didn't respond to his words, but he continued, seemingly determined. "No—I know I'm in love with you."

Finally, she pulled away, her brown eyes flickering over his face. She pushed off the wall, righting her skirt and blouse, and reached for his hand. "C'mon," she said softly, and his brow puckered confusedly.

"Don't I still get my tour?"

She started to drag him up the grand staircase, her skirt swishing against her otherwise bare legs. "Course you do." She looked at him, over her shoulder, and her eyes were glinting with something unfamiliar to Tom. Something that made him want to lock her away, keep her to himself. Something that made him want to feel her in ways that he had never felt anyone else. She was growing more and more insistent as she pulled him up the staircase, stopping in front of a portrait that Tom recognized. It was the portrait guarding the Heads' Common Room. She half turned to him, her expression morphing into one of faux-innocence.

"I just thought we'd start the tour with the Head Girl's dorm."

By the time he'd worked out what she said, she had disappeared through the portrait hole, and he dove in after her, grinning madly, the portrait door swinging shut behind them.

* * *

**A/N: Ohh my gosh! I can't believe we're gone!-mind you, I'll probably post excerpts like I did wit h Ashes, Ashes, but the actually story is truly, genuinely, OMG done! I want to thank everyone who stuck it out for the incredibly long, not very dedicated ride, because I really appreciate it! No flames por favor!**

**Lots of love!**

'


	13. An Excerpt-The First Time

**A.N: Hi, friends! So, this is just a little excerpt from The Cold One. I decided to add this scene because I thought it would be fun to write, and I deemed it necessary.;)**

**Please note, this chapter does contain a relatively measurable amount of smut, and is rated 'M', so don't read if you don't like that sort of thing. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The entire Gryffindor table seemed to emit a cheerful aura that Hermione found entirely infectious. She found herself laughing along with Lavender and Parvati's awful attempts at humour, and she even had a swig of fire whiskey, which the boys had been careful to keep away from the Professors' watchful eyes.

Finals were finished, and for the Graduating class of '98, there couldn't have been a better way to celebrate than Dumbledore's announcement that the remainder of the dark wizards' resistance had been crushed in France. Of course, neither Hermione nor the other students were naïve enough to believe that that would be the last they would ever see of any dark wizard, but, for the time being, they were content.

Over at the Slytherin table, Hermione saw that Draco was properly pissed. After ignoring the calls of Pansy and Blaise, Draco had clumsily pulled himself on top of the Slytherin table and proceeded to give the rest of the Great Hall a reenactment of Risky Business, except, thank Merlin, he kept his pants _on_.

The after-party in the Gryffindor Common Room was supposed to be one of those never-forgetters, but, despite her good mood, Hermione did not particularly feel like celebrating with a bunch of inebriated Gryffindors. She stood on her tip-toes, scanning the heads of the students flooding out of the Great Hall.

"Tell me who we're looking for, and I'll keep an eye out," a smooth voice said in her ear, and Hermione's lips quirked upwards, her eyes trained on the back of Harry's head.

"Well, he's rather tall, so you should be able to spot him right away, and he's in Slytherin, so he'll most likely be headed in _that _direction…oh, and I suppose he's okay looking, you know, if you even _go_ for that sort of thing."

He growled, his hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her around several arguing fifth years. "And what sort of thing is _that_, exactly?"

"Oh, you know, tall-dark-and-handsome type. Personally, I've got a preference for blondes, but-"

He rolled his eyes, nudging her with his elbow before slipping his fingers into hers. "Are you going up there? To the party, I mean?"

She peered up at him. "Are you?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't planning on it, no. I'd actually rather not have a pounding headache tomorrow while we have to sit through the graduation ceremony."

She laughed, pulling him from the sea of students and up the Grand Staircase. "Let's go to my dorm."

The two of them made their way up the staircase silently, and did not speak again until they were in her room, the door shut firmly behind them to keep prying Head Boys, who were more likely than not drunk at the moment, out.

Tom shrugged off his sweater, tossing it lazily over the bed post, and flung himself down onto the mattress. He watched silently as she bustled around the room, gathering her books and arranging them in a neat stack on top of her desk. Unlike Tom, Hermione had yet to pack her things, and her clothes were strung about the room haphazardly. It was very unlike her, he mused, but it didn't particularly bother him.

She paused, her hand resting on the corner of _Hogwarts, A History_, and turned to look at him. Her eyes studied him callously as he teeth gnawed mercilessly on her bottom lip.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" he murmured, and she sighed, padding barefooted across the room and kneeling on the bed. She wasn't really looking at him, but her eyes were a torrent of apprehension. He sat up slowly, sliding his hand across the top of the comforter to find hers. "Hermione, what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter," she told him honestly. "I've just-I've been thinking an awful lot about…things. And I've come to a rather terrifying conclusion."

He frowned, absently stroking circles against her palm. "What's terrifying about it?"

"Well, I _shouldn't _be terrified," she amended, and Tom could hear the just barely distinguishable note of hysteria that her voice took on whenever she was about to rant about something of great importance to her. "I mean, it's only natural, right? It was bound to happen eventually-"

Tom was growing slightly irritated with her vagueness. "_What _was bound to happen, Hermione?"

"-I mean, it was clearly inevitable, and I mean, I don't _want _it to be inevitable, but I can hardly ignore it any longer, and I-I love you, Tom."

His brow creased, now more confused then ever. He and Hermione were closer than the average couple. They were very attached in a mental and psychological sense, but neither of them were very verbal when it came to expressing their affection. In their six months together, Tom could count the number of times she had told him she loved him on one hand. He was almost certain that Hermione could do the same. So whatever she was so anxious about must've been really bothering her, for her to so openly-and so passionately, he might add-admit her feelings for him.

"Hermione, what's this about?" he whispered, reaching up to push her hair out of her face. Hermione leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut. She turned her head, just slightly, so that her lips were pressing against the palm of his hand. His frown deepened, and he ran his hand along the side of her neck before pulling her down next to him, his fingers tracing her face.

"Mione…"

She shushed him, her lips leaving a fiery trail across his mouth, along the line of his jaw, the junction of his neck. Her fingers were gripping his arms so tightly that he thought they might be losing circulation. Just as he moved to voice this concern, Hermione's hands left his arms and moved to the buttons of his shirt.

And everything clicked into place.

He pulled away from her insistent mouth reluctantly, his eyes reflecting his physical strain. "Hermione, are you certain?" he asked sternly, his expression very serious. "Because I swear, Hermione, if you tell me to stop, I will-"

She kissed him again, this time slower, tender. "Tom, I'm certain. Please."

He asked no more questions. He rolled the two of them over so that he was hovering above her, his lips sliding across her skin, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses along the lines of her shoulders, across her collar bone-

Hermione's hands returned perseveringly to the buttons of his shirt, and she quickly, clumsily undid them, her breath hitching as she felt the smooth planes of his stomach, his chest. Her fingers were trembling as she pushed the fabric over his shoulders. His hands gripped her hips as she easily pulled her uniform top over her head, and she heard his sharp intake of breath and smiled, her hands wandering up to tousle his hair. His eyes returned to hers for a moment-just a moment-and she was struck by the seriousness of his gaze. It wasn't playful, or coy, and his constantly-present smirk was long gone. His eyes were burning with something that Hermione had only gotten glimpses of. Something that flashed through his eyes when the two of them were alone, when they were curled up in a secluded corner of the library, or an abandoned classroom.

Her nerves returned to her when she felt him slip her skirt down her legs, tossing it across the room. She resisted the urge to cover herself, or push him away. Perhaps she should've worn a more attractive pair of underwear-

She heard the click of a belt, and she quickly helped him out of his own trousers, and quite suddenly, he was pressed against her again, only this time, she could feel _all _of him. She felt all of the blood rush to her face as he growled, grinding his hips against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord, and she rolled her hips, following the rhythm he had set.

"Hermione," he grunted, and she looked at him. His face was twisted in frustration, and his fingers were gripping her hips so tightly that she thought his short nails might draw blood. "Hermione, I need-I need-"

Without another word, she swallowed her fear, kicking off her underwear and entangling herself further into the sheets. Tom followed in suit, hovering above her as he stared down at her, his eyes a torrent of emotion. "I love you," he told her honestly, pressing his lips against her forehead as he slowly sunk into her. Hermione let out a hiss of pain, barely registering Tom's muttered, "Sorry." She clenched her teeth and stared up at him as he waited for her to adjust.

"Are-are you okay?" he asked, his throat tight, and Hermione could see his restraint.

"I'm-I'm okay," she swallowed. "You can-you can move, if you want."

He didn't hesitate to obey. Hermione grasped his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sudden feeling that was building in her abdomen, burning, lashing, licking-

Tom let out a groan, his head falling to rest in the crook of her neck as he thrust in and out of her, his eyes hooded and lips parted. Hermione's arm tightened around his neck, her hips grinding in time with his thrusts. A moan slipped past her lips and Tom faltered for a fraction of a second before continuing.

A strange, tickling feeling overtook her, and she felt all of her insides clench at once, and then she exploded, his name leaving her lips almost uninhibitedly. He followed soon after, collapsing against her and rolling to the side so that he would not crush her with his weight, his breathing heavy.

He pulled her against him, his eyes glazed as he stared up at the ceiling. His lips were turned upwards, and they didn't seem like they were coming back down any time soon. Hermione felt an amused smile tugging at her mouth. Tom had the look of a child who had just seen Santa Clause. She idly wrapped an arm around his waist, her head fitting beneath his chin easily.

"That was-"

"Yeah..."

He rolled so that he was facing her, and she did the same, arching an eyebrow at him. Despite her nonchalance, Hermione felt giddiness bubbling up in the pit of her stomach and threatening to spill out as she studied Tom, his face arranged in a content expression.

"So it's true what they say, then," he murmured. At Hermione's confused expression, he elaborated. "You're glowing."

She felt her cheeks heat up, and look away, before looking quickly back at him, meaning to say something cheeky, but instead, he pressed his lips against hers, his other hand sneakily curving around her body to grasp her arse. She giggled, arching her neck as he pressed his lips against her skin.

"Can we do this more often?" he asked suddenly, resurfacing. "I mean, it isn't just a...graduation present, one-time sort of thing, right?"

Hermione frowned, pretending to look thoughtful. "Hmm...well, I don't know. I mean...now I've got something to withhold from you if you're acting like a petulant child." He looked horrified at the notion, and she laughed. "Of course not, Tom. I was actually hoping this would become sort of a regular occurrence."

"I knew it," he smirked. "I knew you'd have the sex drive of a teenage boy."

She spluttered, her cheeks tinging pink. "I-what-that is _ridiculous_! I am perfectly in control of my...my _hormones_, thank you very much! If anything, _you're _the one that seems to get a little eager when it comes down to things like this-"

"Well, can you blame me?" he murmured, his lips vibrating against the jaw, and she let out a soft '_hmmm_'. "But really, Hermione, if this sort of thing is going to become...our regular...than it would be most sensible to just move in with each other."

She rolled her eyes, tapping his nose affectionately and pulling herself out of bed. "Nice try."


	14. An Excerpt-Not So Special

**A/N: Hey guys! Just a super short excerpt on how our dear Tommy boy was feeling about our favorite little Muggleborn throughout the story! I'm on spring break right now, so I might have a few more quick little updates like this, but we'll see!**

**This takes place around Chapter Four!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It was her arrogance that got to Tom the most.

Not the sort of arrogance that the Quidditch players possessed; they swaggered about as though they were Merlin's personal gift to the world, as though they could do no wrong. No, Hermione's arrogance was so much more subtle, so much more infuriating.

It was in the way she raised her hand in class; she had absolutely no fear of being wrong. There wasn't any hesitation behind her words, but pure conviction; she _believed _in what she was saying. She had done too much research to back it up for it to be misguided. Hermione wasn't the sort that would go around spreading falsities, because she only put stock it that of one-hundred percent, magically and scientifically supported truth.

She was not particularly pretty. For some reason, this pleased him. If she had been incredibly intelligent, and as stunning as Walburga or Druella, it somehow would have made her seem less tangible, less _real._ Her dull brown hair was often pulled back into a very neat plait that reached between her shoulder blades. When he stood, she was about half a foot shorter than him. She had a spattering of freckles about her nose. Physically, Hermione was nothing spectacular.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew why this pleased him. If she were as beautiful as Walburga or Druella, Malfoy, and Weasley, and Thomas, and Smith would fawn over her like they did the other girls; they would ask for her company every Hogsmeade weekend, or offer to walk her to her Common Room every evening. They would sit by her in the Great Hall during meals and tease her for how much time she spent in the library.

She would not be _his _little mystery, would she?

The defiance that crackled off of every inch of her being was both enthralling and enraging. She didn't not have a shrivel of respect for him. There was fear-oh yes, he could sense it dripping from her being-but she didn't seem to regard him with the sort of reverence that the rest of the school did. Perhaps, being home-schooled, she was not aware how commendable the position of Head Boy was? Surely she knew how hard he had worked to attain such a position?

And despite his internal protests, it _did _matter to him. He felt like her respect was a trophy, a prize to be won, and he found himself actually making an effort to gain it. He felt like he had back in his first year, when he was just a young man trying to prove his worth to his Professors. But he had not had to prove his worth to anyone in a long time, and the feeling was...strange.

One of the most mysterious things about her was that she was _nothing _like her brother. Sure, they were close enough, but if he didn't know better, he would think that they were just very close friends. It wasn't altogether surprising that they didn't at all resemble each other physically; he had dark hair and vivid green eyes, and looked pale almost to the point of unhealthiness, while Hermione had plain brown hair, brown eyes, and creamy skin. It was their mannerisms as well. While Hermione exuded confidence in everything she did, her brother seemed almost shy. He had that likable sort of quirkiness about him that drew people to him. He was far too friendly to be a natural-bred Slytherin; if Tom didn't know better, he'd say that the girl should've ended up in her brother's house.

But Hermione was not nearly as vicious as the Slytherin girls in his year. They were not vicious in a clever way, either; Walburga had a tendency of verbally assaulting any girl she deemed social competition, and would not hesitate to spread a nasty rumour that would help her along. Hermione's characteristics suggested that she was far too practical for such an immature approach.

A smile quirked his lips as he momentarily imagined what would happen to someone who got on her bad side. She had never shown any malice towards anyone, but then, she had only been at school for a matter of weeks. He had seen her snap at the redhead-what was his name?-Hurst, several times, but their banter seemed good-natured.

Tom was not foolish enough to ignore the fact that she was a very powerful witch. Female or not, he had noticed almost at first site that she would be an asset, but he could not put aside the fact that she was simply too self-reliant, too in-submissive to ever be one of his followers. Hermione wasn't the sort to go along with something just because everyone else was. She had a very stable moral compass-something that irritated him immensely. How was it that she could possess so much power and not want control? Was she a fool?

No, she was certainly not a fool. Perhaps there was something that he was missing; maybe she was like him, appearing innocent to everyone around her and fooling them all out of their minds, when in reality, she was manipulative. Perhaps she had already gathered a small band of followers at Hogwarts, in the short time she had been here. She certainly would have had an easier time at it than he had, being a Pureblood.

In that case, he should focus on being less curious of her and more wary. It wasn't as though he'd be averse to disposing of her, if the need came up. Certainly, there were plenty of witches like her in the world. He would not let someone who practically fell from the sky get in the way of the plans that he had been constructing for years and year. Even if she was the most intelligent witch he'd ever met in his entire life. Even though she could beat nearly every bloke in the school at a duel in DADA. Even if she could brew a Forgetfulness Draught that rivaled his own. Even if she had soft skin and pretty eyes.

Even then.


	15. An Excerpt-Far Too Easy

**A/N: Hey ya'll! Just another excerpt! I hope you're all liking these!**

**This takes place some time around Chapter Six-Chapter Seven-ish**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

There was something in the flush of her cheeks when she was angry.

Her eyes would flash-a warning for the approaching storm-before she slammed whichever book she was currently reading shut and tossed her hair over her shoulder, turning her fiercely condemning gaze upon whichever poor soul had so deemed it necessary to make her angry.

More often than not, as of recent, it had been Tom.

But there was just something so...so..._invigorating _about her when she blushed. Because it wasn't just her face; her ears would redden, and the pink tinge would spread from her forehead down to her round chin, down the slender line of her neck to her chest, and God knows where else. Something about seeing her all hot and bothered, because of something _he _had said, or _he _had did, was almost too much for him._  
_

And _Merlin_, when she was angry. _  
_

Even when he were right, he'd never get around to it. She'd die before she'd admit someone else was right, and Merlin knows he'd tried, on countless occasions. There were a few times that Harry and Ron had left to go gather supplies or information, and had come back to see Hermione half a second away from hexing Tom into the next generation, and Tom half a second away from yanking her towards him and tangling his fingers in her absolutely _insane _hair and snogging the living daylights out of her.

Because, quite frankly, an angry Hermione was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life.

She didn't know it either, he could tell. Hermione was conceited about her intelligence-there was no doubt. But when it came to her appearance, she seemed not to realize the effect she had on people. Hermione was no Druella Rosier, with her tall, willowy frame and high cheekbones, but she was enchanting in such a way that Druella could never be. She had this sort of classic charm about her that Tom had never encounter, a subtle sort of beauty that could hit you at the strangest moments, like when she brushed the hair out of her face or wrinkled her nose when she smelled something rotten.

It was disturbing to him, how much she had grown on him in a matter of months. To go from never looking twice at a girl to being so absolutely _fascinated _by one that he knew virtually nothing about.

Except that she was brilliant.

And he appreciated it, more than he could realize. He had never understood how anyone could tolerated Walburga's vagueness; on the contrary, Tom couldn't stand to be around her for more than a few hours. He appreciated that he and Hermione could hold a decent conversation without any effort from either of them. It wasn't even matter of her being well-read; it was the fact that, unlike the girls of modern society, she could actually formulate her own opinions without the basis of someone else's help. She didn't even agree with half of his ideas of dark magic and things, but it didn't seem to bother her. The other girls would fall over themselves to agree with Tom; he could inform them that oxygen wasn't necessary for human survival and they would obsequiously agree. Hermione, however, didn't give two hoots whether or not he thought dark magic had its uses, she was firmly and resolutely against it.

Pity she was, too. She would've been a great-

He shook his head slowly, clearing these thoughts from his mind. A great _what_? Tom Riddle needed _no one_. On the contrary, she would simply be a hindrance to have around. She disagreed so ardently with his plans that he'd never get anything done, with or without her help.

But what if he could change her mind?

He doubted it, he truly did. Hermione wasn't one for fickleness, and he didn't see why this would change because of him, despite her obvious..._reactions_...to him.

He smirked. Hermione may have been intellectually advanced, but she was still a _female_. She shared her sex's physical fascination with, despite how hard she tried to hide it. He could see it in the way she lowered her eyes when they stood close to one another, or the way her heart beat quickened when he touched her; just the brush of his hand against hers was enough to send her spiraling out of control. Oh yes, Miss Macmillan was _very _attracted to him, and normally, he would've been itching to use this to his advantage, however...

It didn't seem right. Normally, this argument would have made him scoff, but treating Hermione like he treated the other females that he often used as pawns felt..._wrong; _almost like diminishing her value. He felt like toying with Hermione would be like exploiting a weapon, which he should keep safe and tucked away, for his use, and his use alone.

Not that Hermione would ever be open to being used. She had illustrated quite openly her disregard for him at the beginning of the year, and he knew that if he really wanted to be..._intimate..._with her, it would take a lot to gain her trust.

Not that he did. Because he didn't. Certainly not.

Still, it was hard to ignore the rise and fall of her chest when she was all flushed and shouting at him- he was a _man_, after all. It wasn't as though he was immune to sexual desire, as much as he'd love to claim to be. But it wasn't because he wanted her. He was simply physically deprived. He was traveling with two males, after all, and she was the only familiar female company-it was only natural that he feel some sort of...stirrings for her. Sure, she was appealing, but not irresistible. It would be only too easy to ignore his bothersome urges.

Far too easy, as a matter of fact.


	16. Challenge!

**A/N: Hello, lovely readers! **

**So, unfortunately, this is NOT an update, no excerpts for you lot today, I'm afraid :( (Maybe later;)) I actually have a challenge for you ****lot, and I was wondering if anyone would take me up on it. It's a bit dorky, so bear with me!**

**Do we have anybody out there that makes fanfiction trailers?  
**

**I'm on spring break at the moment, so I find myself lacking a whole lot to do, so I've been spending an inordinately large amount of time on the internet, and I've been watching a LOT of fanfiction trailers. In case some of you haven't seen them, my absolute favorite is _BlacksGodDaughter_'s fanfiction trailer for _Lady Moonglow_'s fanfiction "Have You Ever", which is my favorite Tomione story of all time. If you haven't read it, I HIGHLY recommend it!**

**Now, without further adieu, here is my request/plead/Birthday/Christmas present/it-would-just-be-really-cool: I challenge you lot (the lot that makes fanfiction trailers;)) to make a trailer for this story! The person who makes the best trailer gets a prize! (I would also appreciate if you lovely readers would help me come up with a suitable prize;)). **

**Only if you want to! It was just an idea, haha!**

**Thanks for reading! **

**Lots of love!**


	17. An Excerpt-Magic

**Howdy, ya'll! Just a quick excerpt update! This is probably very crappily written, considering that it's one in the morning and I'm working off about 4 hours of sleep, but ya'll will deal.**

**This is for brieabdcheese, who requested another excerpt! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Hermione found that it was much easier to forget his negative qualities when Tom did those little things that often made her want to melt into a pile of mush on the tile floor.

Of course, it wasn't as though she had expected, when walking into Madam Levesque's office that morning, to be barraged with a sea of roses and, in familiar elegant script, a card addressed to her wishing her the happiest of birthdays. It almost made up for his absence.

Almost.

For three weeks, Tom had been overseas with Harry and Seamus Finnegan sorting out a problem with a few unruly American dark wizards who had taken to attacking Muggle elementary schools. As noble as the cause was, Hermione could not help but feel a trickle of self-pity as she glumly looked down at the card, wishing more than anything that he could be there in person to deliver it.

"Oh good _Lord_, Miz Granger! I don't care 'ow much you're little _boyfriend_ loves you, 'e _must _stop covering my office in zis-zis-_outrage!_" Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she whirled to face her boss, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and, in Hermione's opinion, the only woman who could give Umbridge herself a run for her money in terms of vileness, Madam Levesque. She was a french woman who had taken over two years before Hermione had graduated and seemed to care more about ruining her life then actually regulating and controlling magical creatures. As her assistant, Hermione could do little to defy her without being put out of a job._  
_

"I'm sorry, Madam." she forced out as politely as she could. "Tom just goes a bit overboard on my birthday-it's sort of his staple."

Madam Levesque feigned a sympathetic look which was ruined when she scrunched up her nose in disdain. "_Oui, _well, please do inform dear _Tom _zat I am not inclined to deal well with frivolity!" Before Hermione could argue, the woman shoved a large stack of paper's into her arms. 'I want zose filed by ze time I return from my meeting-and have zis mess cleaned up as well!" Without another word she turned on her heel-rather dramatically, Hermione thought-and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

She let out a frustrated huff, dropping the papers onto the desk and plopping down tiredly into the chair. Wearily, her eyes swiveled up to the clock which hung above the door.

_9:52_

Hermione groaned, her head coming down hard on the wood of the desk.

It was going to be a _long _day.

* * *

The former-Gryffindor found the little library that had been hastily shoved into a corner in Diagon Alley to be one of the most relaxing places she had ever come across. She had worked there for over a year after graduation before the Ministry had picked her up. Tom had been a little harder to convince; he had only joined faculty five months previous, and did so begrudgingly. He had only agreed because Harry had been going on countless dangerous missions and Hermione was constantly worrying that he and Ron were in danger. After months of enduring this, Tom finally shut her up by suggesting that he just go watch over them himself.

Now, though, Hermione was beginning to regret her nagging. She had always assumed that Tom could take care of himself; after all, she had never come across a wizard as powerful as he. But now, with almost a months time apart from him, she couldn't help but be fearful...

She shook her head quickly, clearing these pessimistic thoughts from her head and turning back to her book. She was _Hermione Granger, _for Merlin's sake! She took no stock in moping about and pitying herself just because her boyfriend was gone for a few weeks. She wasn't one of _those _girls-

"Oi, 'Mione!"

Her brown eyes shot towards the direction of the familiar voice; Dean Thomas was waving at her from between two book cases. She hurried to her feet, enveloping him in a tight hug.

"Dean! How've you been? It's been...quite a while, hasn't it?"

The handsome boy-man, now, she supposed-gave her a roguish grin. "Over a year, I reckon. I've been well. Just mucking about and all. Still attached to those books, I see." He nodded towards the novel in her hand and she subconsciously slipped it behind her back.

"Yes, well. Some things don't change."

He seemed to sense a weight in her words, and he nodded solemnly. "No, they don't." He agreed. An uncertain silence loomed between the two of them for a moment before he broke it. "How're Harry and Ron then? And Tom-you two're still together, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said, her face flushing in the way that it did whenever someone mentioned Tom-a habit that she hadn't been able to break in almost four years. "And they're great...they're all great. The lot of them are actually over in America right now, for the DMLE, dealing with some dark wizards that are causing quite a ruckus."

Dean shook his head disbelievingly. "Never give up, do they?" Hermione wasn't sure if he was referring to Harry and Ron, or dark wizards, so she just let out a breathy laugh, clutching her book tighter. "Well, it was great seeing you, Mione; I've got to get back to my girlfriend, she's waiting at Fortesque's."

"Great seeing you too, Dean." She gave him a final departing hug before he disappeared the way he came. She shook her head slowly, sinking back into her favorite armchair.

It was still hard for the three of them to get used to this; the fact that _nobody _remembered any of the events of the first and second wizarding war was mildly disturbing to the trio. As far as anyone knew, Harry was just an average-albeit wildly talented-young wizard with a penchant for dueling and Quidditch.

As she was walking home that evening, Hermione felt a bizarre sense of gratitude towards both McGonagall and Dumbledore. Had he known, upon sending them back, all that would occur between she and Tom? Had he realized, even then, the possibility that she had the capability of fixing the war in a way that no one could have anticipated?

When she got back to her flat, Hermione was only slightly alarmed to find that her door was unlocked. When she stepped inside, however, she saw a familiar jacket and tie slung across the back of the couch haphazardly. She lowered her wand, letting out a little sigh of relief. She could hear the shower running in the next room, and, half-annoyed, half-amused, she rolled her eyes.

_He hasn't seen me in three weeks and the first thing he does upon return is break into my flat and use my shower._

She bustled about the kitchen, preparing a kettle of tea, and vaguely heard the shower switch off. She felt a little shiver of anticipation race down her spine as she heard Tom bumping around the bathroom, his toothbrush clattering noisily against the counter top, his toe jamming against the bath tub, his muttered curse of frustration...she smiled fondly as she poured two steaming mugs of tea.

He cleared his throat behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was leaning against the door frame, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping wet and a Cheshire smirk upon his lips.

_Merlin, his arrogance will be his undoing. _

She arched a single brow at him, setting down the kettle and turning to lean against the counter. "You know, i was under the impression that you had a shower at your flat."

His smirk broadened. "I wanted to get here before you got home. I was going to have wine, but you came sooner than I'd expected."

Hermione couldn't resist it anymore; she closed the distance between the two of them and wrapped her arms around his back. He wrapped his arms around her waist, staring down at her affectionately. "I've got to report early tomorrow morning; I figured I'd get home and get some rest before-"

He didn't let her finish. In one smooth movement, his scooped her up, spinning the two of them so that her back was arched against the door frame and her legs were tied around his waist. She met his lips enthusiastically, her hands moving almost immediately to his hair.

"Doesn't the-birthday girl-get a-day-off?" He muttered in between kisses. She let out a soft gasp as he found a sensitive spot on her neck, before gently pushing him away.

"You know Levesque isn't that generous," she chided gently. "It's alright though-I don't need to be pampered." She paused. "But, for the record...the roses were amazing.'

A tint of pink flushed his cheeks as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, you know, no big deal. I just thought birthdays require a little bit of effort." He said that _every _birthday, but never seemed to resist spoiling her when it came around the next year.

He pulled her over towards the sofa and the two of them sank down onto it, Tom with his legs on either side of her and Hermione with hers crossed Indian-style. His fingers traced patterns on the inside of her wrists, and she absently studied their laced hands. "I've heard that they're thinking of promoting you." Her gaze shot up to meet his.

"But-but that's impossible! I've only been on a year, plus Madam Levesque was only just hired five years ago, and that's the only position in my Department above my own-"

"The Ministry recognizes the fact that you've got the second highest NEWT scores in Hogwarts history, Hermione." She shot him a dirty look, resentful towards his prominent emphasis on _second_. "They're not particularly concerned about your lack of experience; they've seen you work. They wouldn't give you the spot if they didn't think you could handle it. Besides, anyone with an ounce of common sense can see that Levesque hasn't done posh for the Department."

Hermione felt her face heat up at his praise. "Well, all the same...I don't know if I'll take it."

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Hermione, you've been harping on about how foul of a human being that Levesque is and the moment you're given an opportunity to rid yourself of her once and for all you decline it without a second thought?"

"I'm not..._declining _it, exactly," she argued weakly. "I'm merely...keeping my options open."

He scoffed, clenching his jaw in the way that he did when he was having a fit. _"Honestly_, Mione-"

"_Honestly_, Tom," she mimicked teasingly, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his jaw line. "You're _such _a little girl sometimes."

He huffed indignant, but said nothing else. However, when she leaned her head against his chest and curled up into his lap, he did not protest. "You drive me mad, you know." he told her honestly.

She snorted rather unbecomingly before absently flicking her wand, watching, half-interested, as the flames danced to life in the hearth. There was no sound for a few moments besides the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of their breaths in time.

"Three years, hasn't it been?" Tom mused aloud, massaging between her shoulders. She had no trouble deciphering what he was referring to.

"Roughly," she agreed. His head bobbed, but his eyes were distant, a million miles away.

"Three years," he repeatedly quietly, this time more to himself than anyone. Whatever he was thinking about, it seemed to be causing him a great deal of anxiousness, because his teeth had not stopped gnawing on his lower lips for some time now.

"Hermione," he asked after a while, and she looked up at him. He paused, seeming to have to shape his words before he spoke them. "You aren't-you aren't afraid to take that job because you're afraid of commitment or anything, are you?"

Her eyebrows shot up before she let out a sharp laugh. "Tom-what? No, of course not!"

"Just wondering," he mumbled. "And you aren't-that is-you aren't hesitating because you're having a hard time deciding whether or not now is the right time to move into the next phase of your life, even if it means being uncertain about what it may hold? But you trust your instinct, don't you? And you know that I love you, and that we can work through whatever comes together, yeah?"

She blinked several times, having to process all that he said very slowly, before finally saying, "Tom? Are you quite alright? You sound like you're getting post-traumatic stress or something -" In the same moment, however, Tom had dropped down onto one knee and withdrawn something from his pocket.

"Marry me?"

"And it's not a problem if you are-I can see it happening to anyone who-_what_?"

And then his face flushed the most adorable shade of pink before his eyebrows scrunched together in a determined expression. "Merlin, Mione, you can talk the ears off a Goblin, but you never listen. I said-er-marry me?"

She sputtered for several moments, her mouth opening and closing as though it were controlled by a wire. She looked between him, on his knee in front of her, and the simple diamond that sat inside a black velvet box in his hand.

She swallowed thickly. "You're-you're asking me to marry you?"

He growled in irritation, but Hermione could see the nervousness swimming in his eyes. "_Yes_, Mi, don' be daft. Will you or won't you?"

Hermione's mother had always told her that a person was not capable of taking care of themselves until the age of twenty-five; therefore they were not yet suited to care not only for themselves, but for another person. Hermione was just twenty-one, and had little experience with this sort of thing, let alone-_Merlin_.

She finally seemed to notice that the nervousness in his eyes had-at some point-erupted into near-hysteria, and she beamed down at him, suddenly ecstatically happy. "I-oh, of _course_, I will, Tom!" His nervousness was instantly replaced by a shining sort of arrogance. He all but leaped to his feet and yanked her into an embrace, managing to slip the ring onto her fourth finger in the same movement.

There was not a breadth of space between their bodies as they stared at one another; Hermione seemed to glow with happiness, and Tom could not take his eyes off her face. There was something about Hermione when she was happy that was almost addictive, enchanting-

Magic. Pure magic.


End file.
